Dirty Secret

I have a secret.

People think, or rather, I've fooled people to think that I am a super-organizer. My desk at work is almost sparse, my emails, both personal and professional, are organized to within an inch of their lives, but my house...oh, my house.

I moved January 21st. By looking at my home, you would think it had just happened. There's piles on every table. Open, forlon, bursting-at-the-seams boxes.

Logically, organizationally, I know that I should toss the things in these boxes. I haven't needed them the last 3.5 months, so I likely won't need them the next. But last week a couple weeks ago, I sorted everything mostly into boxes and I came across many things I knew I wouldn't want to get rid of, even if I hadn't remembered they existed.

My goal (good one) is to finish it up this weekend.

But Gerard Butler is so pretty and half-naked on my TV.

Blogging for Dummies

Blogging is ridiculous. Pedantic. Blogging is, at best, an exercise in a lack of modesty.

Which is why I'm blogging. I'm quite often ridiculous, usually pedantic and I wouldn't know modesty if it hit me in the forehead.

I have tried all manner of blogs before. Here, WordPress, LJ, even self-hosted. But in the end, there was always the same problem:

I'm lazy.

But, for now, here's a little background:

I'm a twenty-something pillaging pirate, plunderer, former college student, apetheist, alleged writer in the great cornfields of the US of A. I enjoy books, music, dilly-dallying, and rebelling against the man quiet, introspective time while portraying myself as a well-behaved girl-next-door. I'm currently experiencing the world's greatest quarter-life crisis. I ought to be doing something better with my life. And, if you hadn't guessed, I don't like onions.