What surrounds you as you read this? What kind of stuff is on every side of you (furniture, walls, books, etc.)? Also: What kind of energy is surrounding you? -Katherine I'm sitting at my computer, a small monitor perched on the corner of my messy, overflowing desk. Chris Black is sitting next to me, on my laptop on the other desk. The Cranberries are playing right now, and my empty teacup sits on my desk along with a mostly and soon to be empty package of chocolate graham crackers. There's a stack of CDs to listen to on the amp and computer next to me, and there's cables everywhere. The house is a tad musty from my being away, but cooking food tonight helped a lot. It's a subdued place, but happy. I've laughed a lot tonight, but it's relatively quiet and I like it that way. The light is from behind me, the one remaining bulb in the "chandelier", and not bright, but not dim, just 60-watts-from-across-the-room. It's cooling down, since the door's still open, and a window. Fresh air is nice. I'm going to go to bed.
wow what a cool idea!
around it i have
yeah.. alot iof shit around this old thing! -Heather who really loves it Dude. I like this page. My computer is shared with my family so it never gets too personal - people clean it up, I don't want to leave sappy notes around, etc. Still there's lots of interesting things I can see. To my left, a Monty Python day-to-day calender sits, over a week out of date since we haven't changed its little pages since we got home from vacation this weekend. The booklet for the computer game The Sims is there, too (Buzzy and I's latest obession). Above the computer are two thingamajicks (the kind that bob when you push the bottom), a plastic lizard, rubber seal, plastic frog, china frog Mama painted, and a Welsch Corgi statue by Breyer. On the other side, a pencil sup full of dead pens, pencils and a finger puppet, a custom horse I call Simon Says, a tape dispenser, a phone, a Arabian breeder's catalog from 1984, a list of names in Spanish, a tube of glitter lipstick Buzzy's been putting on her cheeks, and a action-figure that Kate gave Bizz. Laura, my rat, was running on my lap until a second ago when she peed on me and got dumped back home. All this is in a space three feet by two - the top of a table. Remarkable. -Robyn Yo, cool question, girlie. So here ya go. Here's my surroundings: I'm sitting at my computer desk that my mom gave me...I've got my current poetry notebook sitting open between the keyboard and the monitor. I've got books all over....Broadway Musicals, Poet's Market, The Vampire Book, The History of the Devil, Douglas Adams, Encyclopedia of Religions, Travel Writing, TLH (of course) and lots more. I've got stacks and stacks of papers all over the place...letters and things I've written randomly and mail and things to send out and half finished packages to camp people and phone bills (cringe) and more. There's my hot chocolate cup from last night. There's my phone. There's my book of magazine collages. And as far as energy? Hmmm...I'm feeling pretty good at the moment. I felt good about how I worked at work today, that I finally finished Zen's letter which I've been promising myself and him that I would do. And I've got my head in order temporarily. The energy feels pretty good. Ani's blasting (To The Teeth) and it makes me feel happy and strong. The energy is bursts of lavender and red. Jasmine I'm in my kitchen. My cat's dish is directly to my left, and she's finally eating out of it. The back door is on my other side, and it's open to let in the amazingly warm air. I get up every few minutes to open the screen door and let the cat in or out. There's a window directly in front of the computer, so I can pause as I'm typing and look out at the astonishingly clear sky. I can even see the mountatins through the trees. I can see the plum tree in the back yard, which has begun to bloom, and the dogwood, which has not. Dar Williams is playing back in the living room. Behind me, the stove is sitting on one side of the kitchen doorway; the sink and counter are directly across from it. I'm happily taking in every sound that comes to my ears, even the somewhat obnoxious jackhammer that seems to be somewhere to the north. -Mitchell Yeah! Awesome question! Lessee... I'm sitting at the computer desk in the computer room on the first floor of my house. My back is to the door, and to my left is another computer, where my dad is sitting with his back to me. There's a phone on the desk next to me, and behind the phone is a lamp that's almost always on. To my right are a couple filing cabinets with bills, invoices, computer junk, pictures, and all sorts of cables. Also to my left is a scanner and a printer, which are both hooked up to both computers. At this very second, there's a cat sitting on my shoulder (don't ask), and another one at my feet, and yet another using the scratching post in front of the printer. Above the computer are phone books, dictionaries (mom plays scrabble on the computer... a lot), a bill minder, envelopes, and CD ROMS galore. The chair that I'm sitting in is old and ragged- a towel covers the ripped chair that has stuffing literally coming out. My right leg is starting to lose feeling from being tucked under me for too long, and my feet are both very cold, because the addition that the computer room is in is old and drafty. There's a large blanket covering the big window that faces the street in front of our house to keep the glare from the sun (as well as prying eyes) out of the house. "The Skater's Waltz" is blaring (well, as blaring as it can be...) from the speakers, and every so often there are loud bangs from the dining room where mom is grinding almonds to make almond cookies for my grandparents' Christmas Day Open House (an annual event... never fails). My dad's fingers fly across the keyboard to my left about as fast as mine do, though they rarely pause, as mine do, to contemplate what he's writing. He's done it all before, and could probably do it with his eyes closed. The atmosphere is, for once, that of peace and quiet, with the occasional chatter going back and forth. For once, no one's yelling at anyone, and no one is mad at anyone else (except maybe for Casey, who was stuck with after dinner chores, as I did the before dinner ones). The ugly blue and black and green marble-y carpet is starting to peel up at the entrance, even though mom and I just put in a carpet-tack thing that people use in their entries all the time. I guess we're just destined to have to replace this carpet (yes! yes! mom cries). The humming from the computers is really all I can hear very clearly, apart from the music playing (on continuous loop, as usual), but it's become background noise over the years. Loud, yes, but still just a part of my natural surroundings. Nothing special. Nothing important. The din from the kitchen suddenly overpowers all the computer noise... I guess Casey has become increasingly frustrated with our incompetant dishwasher yet again. -JessicaSkater White computer, new, big screen with lots of colors. A room filled with shelves of books, a desk full of paper and wood and paint. The music of Clannad coming from the other room, it makes itself known smoothly. Outside it is night, and rain droplets are left on the window. The energy here is both of deep concentration and impatience. My sister is drawing, and I am pacing the floor in-between writing. Feeling the rush of holiday spirit and the need to give quickly. Luckily I have much time for that today. ~Eire Snow, a vague sense of beauty, and Tori Amos. "I know it's just a spring h-aze but I don'tmuch like thelookofit..." My mother's itty-bitty monitor is in front of me. I'd use my own computer, which is in my own room, but Red (one of the dogs) has chewed my phone line to bits in there, leaving me internetless. So I've been using my mother's computer. Various bills and important papers are scattered around on the desk that the keyboard is sitting on. There are two empty water bottles and a jar of spicy peanuts sitting on top of a list of sheep breeders to my direct left, and there's a very full trash can to my direct right. Behind me, there are a few big piles of books. One pile has a horse veterinary guide, a photo album, 'Born to Win' (a dog breeding/showing book), and an issue of Aussie Times (a dog magazine) in it. The others consist of livestock books, outbuiling construction plans, a Calvin and Hobbes tresuary, a seed catalog, and an X-Files episode guide. There's a target stick (animal training tool) with the wrist scrunchy of a clicker (another training tool) around it leaning against the door. The walls are a sky blue color, and on the other side of the wall in front of me is my own room, which is incredibly messy at the moment. I'm not very neat. Right now, I'm sitting in a steely gray chair that isn't very comfortable, and I'm swiveling a bit as I type. I tend to fidgit like that, and if something has me upset in some way, then I'll skip the fidgiting and opt for pacing around the room. The boards creak under my feet when I do that. I'm content, for the most part. I'm in a calm, introspective mood, and will stay that way until I wake up tomorrow. -Katherine It's late, and things feel tired and relaxed. I live alone, so the energy I create just swirls around until a change comes from me. Ani's playing right now, my desk's relitivly clean, lots of little containers of pushpins, batteries, dip ink, safety pins, CD caases, the phone, water glass, stapler, salt shaker, coloured pencils, little rubber spiders glued so that they're crawling around my moniter's edge. There's a map of North Amarica (alas, no longer all encompassing now that my dear ones are roaming the whole planet) on the wall to my right, with little flags with names on them to show me exactly where all my friends live. Behind me is a full bookshelf with a stack of unaanswered letters on top, as well as a basket of random cool crap. To my left, on the scuffed purple floorboards is a sea of cassett tapes, and my tape player. The wall in front of me (above the desk) has a calender, photo of Dawn and I on the bus to camp, a bulliten board with library and dance info, lists, quotes, name tags, cartoons, a sweet little kid photo, a friendship bracelet that finally wore through.
It's seven o'clock My bed is out, too, since I was deep-cleaining the bedroom, so there's that. Basically, that's what I see right now. Ari Hello. It is cold. But not as cold as yesterday. Yesterday it was so cold it was hard to breath. I did my water ablutions/rites and some good deep thinking/feeling at the ravine four days ago. It was so cold that the water I sprinkled three times on my head turned to ice. Now, it is just me, my cold cold cold feet and the hum of the computer. (And) That huge acck! feeling. No time for myself. No time to think (enough) or create. Turning the house upside down cleaning, and Christmas-ing and family-ing and then much baking. cooking. oh so much of that. This room is where my mother does her work. On this computer. There's a scanner and a fax machine and a printer. There's lots of paper and Corel cds. My mother is a graphic artist. Her work lies around, some planning to go places, some just tests. There are magazines and phone books, and a huge bookshelf on the wall. There's a desk with a phone, a lamp... calculators, business cards. There's all sorts of things. Even a dog. A big hairy smelly lazy german shephard named Major. He sits at the window with his snout resting on the window sill, watching the passersby, and the squirrels. Whatever may be out there. And I'm sitting on this kick-ass blue ball for a chair. It's the highlight of this room (besides the computer, that is). It is quite cool in here at the moment, and in the house right now Christmas presents are being wrapped, and my oma is visiting. Cookies were made last night, more to be made today. It's Christmas eve. Well, these aren't my current surroundings, but I wanted to say something about my room and I didn't know where else to put it, so good enough. Last night and this morning, I've been criticizing my room. Matt B. is going to come visit me and I thought I'd clean it up a bit for his arrival and as I moved a few things around, threw some stuff away that I didn't particularly need him to see, I figured out how much I didn't actually enjoy my room anymore. Sure, it adequately represents all stages of my life, from the stuffed animals to the posters to the ribbons on the curtain rod, etc. But I'm not that person anymore. I moved on while I wasn't looking and so last night, I started taking things down. I took down two posters from the ceiling that had been up for years but I couldn't reach to get down so never got around to it . . . I pulled some teddy bear things down that had been up since I moved into the room 8 years ago . . . A few minutes ago, I went and yanked down everything on my bulletin board. It hurt to do that in a way, because I'd spent so much time putting all those things up, carefully picking the photos and quotes and ticket stubs that I wanted up there . . . but it had been too long to have the same things up there. The phone numbers pinned up with the colorful little push pins were for people I was never going to call again, the photos were of people whom I hadn't thought of in years, dusty photos, the quotes were only representations of how I'd felt then. So down they all came. Now I'm trying to decide what to put back up. I'm slowly moving on in my room and its a really disconcerting experience. When you're a teenager, your room is generally really important to you and if a stranger walks into your room, they're bound to be able to deduce some things about you just from what they see. And someone would be incredibly confused if they walked into my room with the Van Gogh poster along side the Titanic poster, the Rocky Horror Picture Show doll along side the Teddy Bear wall hanging, etc. Who I am is no longer aptly shown by what my room looks like. And the bags piled on my bed are all full of things that were once part of me but that I've now grown past. How many times must a person do this to grow up? ~Jasmine NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 23 times, last edited on August 28, 2001 by fiona@nbtsc.org. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
