And It Starts.

I was afraid of this.

I get my act together and start this blog, and two posts in I get writer’s block.

I was all ready to write tonight. I got myself though the last three hours with the anticipation that I would churn out something incredibly witty and profound.

I’m in my writing sweats.

I have the TV set to some random ridiculous reality show for background noise. I have a chi tea in a CNN mug.

I’ve got nothing.

Well, now that I think about it, I do have something. Let’s run with this:

Last weekend, my parents asked me to come help box up my room . No, they haven’t decided to turn my room into exercise room, rather they were replacing the carpets and panting throughout the entire house. Therefore, everything had to be boxed up and moved into the basement. Besides want to help out my poor parents try to move the entire second floor down two flights of stairs, I found this a great opportunity to get more of my essentials that I desperately was missing here in Jersey. My books. Being a proud bibliophile, I have been going through total withdrawal. I missed seeing all my books organized neatly on their shelves. (Which also were going to be making the trip back to NJ. My make shift shelves looked like they were going to collapsed at any minute.)

So off to Central Pennsylvania I went, dragging poor Christopher along with the promise that we could bring back an extra dresser so that he could finally put his clothes in something where the handles weren’t falling off.

Long story short, my childhood was boxed up and spirited off to the basement. Sad Panda.

I found all sorts of interesting things that have been lost over the years to the black hole that exists in the back of my closet:
A holder for the new state quarters, lost somewhere between release of Utah and Oklahoma…
A middle school year book with photos cut out- presumably I cut out photos of people (boys) that I thought were cute and pasted somewhere else…
Half finished screenplays written by me and high school friends.

If someone was judging me by my taste in CDs, they would think I had multiple personalities. God, I have a lot. They pretty much ran the whole spectrum: from classic (Beatles), classical, total kitsch (Britney Spears) to downright crazy. Pure Disco? What the hell was I thinking? What induced me to buy this? How old was I? Obviously, I had to have bought this myself, because who in their right mind would give this to me as a gift?

Ok, so that wasn’t a total fail. I haven’t completely lost my gift…yet.