Summer Break, Day Thirty Four

I got a massage today. While not the first back rub I've ever gotten, it's the first "real" massage from a masseuse. Well, ok, so she's not technically a masseuse, but more a masseuse-in-training.

Noble's roommate, Corey, is an opera student who realized that she wants to be able to make a living and eat more than once a week. So she took a year off school and is in the middle of earning her masseuse certification (or whatever it is called). And for a great price she is giving massages. It's part of her certification (not the prices, but the training massages), and I was more than happy to help her.

Noble is a friend from high school who lived with me for about six months to save himself an hour commute from Alma (where his parents moved) to Haslett five days a week. He's one of the guys who I would call brother. Now he's a music major at Michigan State living in a duplex out in Lansing. We still get together from time to time to make music, play Risk/Axis and Allies, or just burn time.

The massage couldn't have been better timed. I had to take care of getting loan information figured out this morning. And nothing is more stress inducing for me than working on student loans. By the time I was in the car on my way to Lansing I was stressed to the point of snipping and cussing at every little thing.

Corey told me as I was stripping to my boxers that she has had people propose to her while on the massage table. I laughed. Then when she finally got to massaging my head and neck I damn near rushed out to buy a ring.

Take note girls: massaging my head is crack cocaine. It's kryptonite. I will melt like putty.

Then I came home and had to go right to work finishing painting my sister's old room. That's been the biggest reason that I haven't been on to update my blog. Instead of rebuilding my collages in a new room I've decided to take a little more conservative approach. I painted two of my walls, one a dark blue, one a sky blue. The other two I left white. Then I'm going to get some nice art deco prints and some cheap frames and create a more professional room. It'll be a little more welcoming for guests, which is a smart move because I'm not spending as much time in my room any more.

So tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow I get all of my stuff out of my old room and unpack it in my new room.

Summer Break, Day Twenty Eight Part Deux

I feel like a king stuck on the throne of the innermost sanctuary of his keep. While all around barbarian invaders are closing in. The walls rumble with their slapping feet, and the pounding of spear on shield. And I am alone. And I can feel the inevitable crawl of time, and the inevitable failure of my defenses.

It's funny, looking at the preceding post. I wasn't planning on doing a second one today, but seeing the topic of the first, and the events that ensued it seems only right.

My sister has finally claimed victory in forcing me from my bedroom.

I'm packing slowly, cleaning reluctantly, and watching as she cheerfully moves in. It was inevitable, I know, but it still sucks.

The major part was the disassembling of my walls.

Over the past six years I slowly covered my walls with random clippings, pictures, posters, bumper stickers, other stickers, and anything that I could get a ring of tape on. Soon the wall itself was masked under this amoebic explosion of me, my psyche, my soul, and my life. Intricate patterns of senior pictures, movie tickets, quarter sheets from concerts I went to or played in with my band, Anomaly. All that came down today in a solemn disassembling.

My dresser was emptied, my shelves were cleaned, and my closet gutted. All the while my sister sat greedily at the threshold, arms crossed, face a mask of cold joy. Death Cab played quietly in the background.

I've yet to be fully ousted. My pile of stuff is still in there. But the end is coming quick. The end is on the horizon and will be reached in a matter of miles.

I'm going to take the pile of pictures and miscellanea that I salvaged from my wall and create a scrapbook. It's not something I would usually do. The wall was my scrapbook. My ex used to enjoy coming over and just staring at the walls. It was like a giant "where's waldo?" Hidden pictures, surprising finds. Now that I've lost the wall I'm going to condense it into an actual book.

Alright I'm done being sentimental. Now I'm off to play FIFA 07 and enjoy some brewskies with the Duke.