A little breathing waiting room

So I got the plague on Wednesday and woke up some time this past weekend. Wasn't quite the best time to start working on a take-home test. Getting really excited for this Wednesday what with the Hummingbiird bottle show. Lets see, little excuse for a miniweekend, I'll take it, I need it, its a tiny clearing until the test next Tuesday, just a little rock to hold onto before doing the backstroke. Plus this Taiwanese(is that even close?) surf rock band, Red Chamber, are playing and they have masks, smoke, and movies. Kind of reminds me of the movie 3 ningas which I remember seeing with Pip in sixth grade. That is a totally useless piece of information and hilarious all in the same gasp. We had our parents drive us to see this movie. It starts to get strange the memories we decide to keep with us. Along those lines I have been keeping mementos from each transition I've made since leaving the nesting grounds. I have a lunchbox full of stuff from the transition from Western Springs to Champaign, from Champaign to Verona, from Verona to Champaign, and from Champaign back to Western Springs. Even further I have mementos from the desk transition school at champaign, to work at UofC, to school at UofC. When does it start to become unhealthy? Certain things like a wooden african hammer I found in the parking lot next to UofC at the DuSable African-American History Museum or the Erasmus boozy buses around milan drink ticket. Some things not even scrap books can handle like headbands. Does everyone have a burgeoning supply of crap or do people just throw this stuff away? I find it strange when people are too clean though. After reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim I've looked at people who keep an immaculate den a little bit differently and wonder where this time comes. Then I realize this is self-reflection time. Whats the best way of getting away from that place, cleaning til your hands hurt. Sometimes it puts you in a zone where your on the seattle needle and all your problems have fallen down off each side of you and you can finally focus on one thing, a plate that shines. Of course the book can also make you over-analyze yourself. Time to clean!

from the summer of 99'