The Bad Poetry Hour

One benefit of packing up a room to declutter it is that you rediscover old things that you'd forgotten you'd kept. Something I found on my desk is my old poetry journal, from back in my college days when I was an English major with delusions of talent. I can't say that any of it is terribly good - it's full of the imagined profundity and tortured meter of a nineteen-year-old - but there's at least one I wouldn't mind sharing. Appropriately enough, it's the last piece in the journal.

( Action Figures )

I can't say I miss writing poetry, but it's nice to have a record of my attempts.

Progress report

I've managed to fill 5 bankers' boxes with various items to begin de-cluttering and de-personalizing the house, starting with my office. My figures are all packed up. My desk is looking rather spartan. All our CDs are packed up, save for those in Z's room and those that I want to rip before packing. Our PS1 games are packed, along with most of the DS games, the GBA and its games, and the install discs for almost all of my PC games. I have five more boxes to assemble and pack up, and those will be mostly filled with books and DVDs. Other things have been set aside for sale tomorrow, such as our old boombox, my Sidewinder Precision joystick, and some miscellaneous toys I've accumulated over the years. At this point, my office feels very chaotic, but with a couple of additional days of packing and cleaning it'll look cold and impersonal.

Taking down everything that marks the house as being ours will be odd. It'll feel almost like house-sitting. It will still be home, of course, but just barely. That's kind of the point, though.