10:59 PM

For the first time in well over a week, I'm still voluntarily awake at 10:59. Normally I'm reading myself to sleep, or conked out, or worrying about a million things that won't matter in six months.

Tonight, instead of worrying, reading, or sleeping, I'm burning lavender oil, washing my sheets, and giving my room a pretty in depth (for me) cleaning. There's a strong potential for an overnight guest tomorrow, and in situations like this, I rarely like to let true, messy self show through. Clothes are folded and put in the dresser, the empty water glasses and tea mugs are banished, the bed is sprayed with linen spray and then made. Anything potentially damning is stuffed away in a closet.

As always, I try to see my room through a new-comers eyes. Scratched, older furniture, covered with a green patchwork quilt and a bright red Naxi shawl. An old, small, jammed book case that looks like it's about the topple. Not a single photo in sight. On the walls--a piece of posterboard with Manifesto; The Mad Farmer Liberation Front copied onto it. A line from Franny and Zooey. A Date to Save poster. A Vagina Monologues poster. Above the door, a small blue sign that read Shalom in biblical Hebrew. A few functional, nice potter pieces. A scary librarian sweater. A laptop. A small stereo and stack of CDs. A wool grouser hat. Boxes of tea. The underlying smell of lavender and chamomile.

I wonder what I want this to say about me. I clean because I want to look like I'm capable of keeping my life organized and together. I burn oil because it helps me sleep. I have a too-small, toppling bookshelf because I'm cheap and plan on moving, so a large expensive one doesn't seem like a good use of money and space. I have Wendell Berry & J.D. Salinger on my walls because I want to write like them. I don't have photos on my walls because words mean more to me than pictures do.

I wonder what it actually says about me.

I don't do interpersonal relationships. I spend too much time alone with my books. I'm overly idealistic. I'm conflicted. I want too much. I don't want enough. I'm disorganized. I'm creative. I'm not creative. I'm snooty. I'm high maintenance.

Unfortunately, overnight callers generally aren't into pyscho-analyzing you based on your room decor (0r lack thereof).

Damn. So much for a moment of self-actualization. I would have been better off sleeping.