H is for Haven.
Wow. It's been awhile. Again, a lot has happened.
I write from the medium-tinted desk that sits before a window overlooking a green, flowery pathway. My modest bed sits behind me, the desk drawer cabinet sits beside it, acting as a bed stand. My room lies in disarray. Sure my desk is clean, with the exception of a special K box, a focus vitamin water, a bowl for my cereal, a glass of water from last night and my cap, but I got into the mood to clean last night.
What can I say? I do that.
Clothes litter the floor is some disorganized chaos. I prefer to call the force that makes my room perpetually disheveled the "Artistic tornado". It's a tornado as I am pretty organized in my nature. I can organize areas very well...It's just a matter of keeping things organized. It's just a matter of cleaning up after myself. It's a tornado because my room is never that difficult to clean, it just looks bad. In reality, cleaning it will take me 20 minutes, or maybe 45 minutes tops.
My walls are white in some areas, scenic in others. Gah, I really need more pictures. This whiteness is killing me. I noticed just 3 days ago that the majority of my pictures are French in nature. Be it Moulin Rouge--I have an old photo of the building itself (taken by a photographer obviously) and a picture reference from the 1800's. I have the poster with the black cat and the words "Tournee ou Chat Noir", I have a photo I took myself of the "Queen's castle" where Lady Diane stayed when queen Catherine kicked her out of Paris for Diane's affair with Henry the second (I made the picture inky black and white); I have a Phantom of the Opera painting a friend gave me (though my friend is American, I count this poster as French as the author of The Phantom of the Opera is French....
I Why am I describing this scene to you?
Why am I telling you about the place where I live?
Why?
This place has become my Haven.
In late August I made the trip up here with most of my belongings packed in my mother's van. That's right. I am back at college. I am no longer hearing yelling, no longer getting entangled in my mom and step dad's relationship. I am realizing that I have friends here...good friends. It is hard to adjust but I am getting the hang of it. My roommates aren't too bad (They're actually very cool), my room is a single and it's very comfortable...and I actually have my own bathroom. I wish my boyfriend were here...I miss him...But soon we hope. As soon as we get enough money...
I am looking for a job, currently. It's difficult as there are many people looking. But I have a feeling I'll get one...
I sigh.
It's always about the money.
Anyway, that topic is for another time. I've made this post very long already.
PS:
I have decided that for this blog I will go with letters. This was not intentional in the first place but then it just showed up. <3
