New Bookshelf

Okay, so I just bought a new bookcase from Staples, which is not at all the point of this posting but definitely the catalyst. So, as an extension of the January muck out that I've been doing in my studio, I waded through the books and papers I had stuffed in my old bookcase. The new bookcase is taller (two more shelves, yahoo) so I was able to finally empty the cardboard box that has been sitting next to the old bookcase since we moved into this house fall of '04. In the box, I found a few books, a bunch of files I chucked into the reycling bin, and my journals and sketch books of old. I started to read.

Wow! I became an anthropologist and archaeologists at once. Who was this girl turned young woman? She was so righteous, so judgemental, so confused. Her poetry stank until about 1990 when suddenly she started to straighten out her thoughts. Her metaphors became a little less complex and convoluted. That was the spring of my freshman year in college and I guess I was in love, according to my writing, but with whom, honestly I'm not sure. I met my husband in the spring of the next year so it wasn't him.

Then the drawing just blew me away. I have periods in college when I drew all the time. Lucky me. In my solitude, I took my sketch book everywhere. I painted too. My color use is really interesting, the subject matter could only be classified as spiritual and angst filled. Much about our place in the universe and what is love.

It is so interesting that I became a generally satisfied, very organized, goal oriented, in control of the house, planner kind of person. (Although there are hints of leadership from a very interesting entry the night I was the on-duty RA during a frat party I had to close down.) Is this just what happens with maturity and responsibility? What will this post look like 15 years from now?