We Can Make Banana Bread out of These Worn Bananas
Just Maggie
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An untidy room has more expression, but a clean room gives creativity a chance to run rampant. I firmly believe in this (just don't tell my mom, a neat freak). My reasoning: last night I was able to get past this part in a story I'm working on and I had a crazy dream. I love dreams even when I hate them. There are the short ones that last hours and the long ones that only eat up fifteen minutes of sleep. Reoccurring ones are always my favorite. When I was a kid and living at my grandma's, I had the same dream about snow white and how to save her about once a month. It changed every night though, because I could remember what happened the last time I dreamed it. Now it reminds me of Groundhogs Day.

Pandora keeps spilling her bedding all over my clean floor.

We Can Make Banana Bread out of These Worn Bananas
Just Maggie
problembucket

An untidy room has more expression, but a clean room gives creativity a chance to run rampant. I firmly believe in this (just don't tell my mom, a neat freak). My reasoning: last night I was able to get past this part in a story I'm working on and I had a crazy dream. I love dreams even when I hate them. There are the short ones that last hours and the long ones that only eat up fifteen minutes of sleep. Reoccuring ones are always my favorite. When I was a kid and living at my grandma's, I had the same dream about snow white and how to save her about once a month. It changed every night though, because I could remember what happened the last time I dreamt it. Now it reminds me of Groundhogs Day.

Pandora keeps spilling her bedding all over my clean floor.

Smiling Like a Paper Airplane
Just Maggie
problembucket

Weather you are gorgeous,
Heh, I mean Flawless.

Seriously, today is one of the most beautiful days I can remember. Maybe that's just an Irish sparkle catching in my eye though.

First thing I did at the townhouse when I got back last night was to begin refreshing my room. I reminded myself of my chubby scruff gerbil and how she is always turning over her bedding. I'm glad she does it though; keeps her cage fresher longer.
I decided that the bookshelves my WWII Veteran grandpa made for me weren't cutting it anymore. Don't mistake me for being ungrateful, because I love the shelves (they're hunky, heavy, and sagging in the middle (just the touch of ugliness I crave)). They are stuck in my closet though, weighing too much for me to even nudge a little. And since they're in the closet, they are a perfect candidate to harbor my excess shirts that don't fit anymore, but I'm too clingy to let go of. I'll just drop the book and call them shelves.
That excess title of book has been placed in front of a new set already. The lady that lived here before my mom and I left us some furniture she thought we could use (she was too lazy to throw it out). Among the red filing cabinet and semi-african inspired paintings, she gave us a black iron baking rack. This thing is tall and spacey and lanky and simply perfect for me. I (meaning mostly Skyler) brought it up to my room, slapped on a fraction of my books and journals, and renamed it a bookshelf. With this, my water-stained cardboard writing box has expanded into a writer's corner.

I am going to do the unthinkable today: exercise.

Scrabuffling away now!
Ta-ta!

If you must have a drink, I'll fix you something pink.
Just Maggie
problembucket

In the food-less kingdom of my father's, I have been entertaining myself with some of the free applications I got for my Ipod a couple of weeks ago. Two of which that have become my favorites are Poetry and Love Poetry. In the lite versions you get one type of poem, the form, a few examples, and then you get to write your own. The first one is the Five-Line poem, and here are my examples of them. (They may not be astounding, but at least they gave me something to do, right?) ((Right!))

Hannibal
Classy, Killer
Thinking, Creating, Plotting
Crimson eyes seeing all
Lector

Waste
Flowery, Fake
Dancing, Drinking, Dying
I refuse to go
Prom


Anywhoos, the love poem one, a download out of vague curiosity, had the simple Tryst. I firmly believe that someone of my young age and few experiences can achieve love, nor am I dating someone at the moment, so I wrote one to somebody I find very special.

My lover
Ran into my arms
In the dim living room
Last week
When it was not Tuesday

Haha, I find it funny only because I get it. It was for Skyler's Charlie, a dog I am told that I am quite creepy with. Lizzy is not overly fond of him, so we devised that she will only have to give him love on Tuesdays. He misses me on those days... I can taste it.

Well I gotta Scrabuffle for now,
Will write later in an attempt to break through my block.

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