it's 7:13 am, on November 02, 2001 - spring winter cleaning.

~

You know how I said I was going to go and clean my room, because I was a terrorist and it was an act of terrorism?

I don't think I really overestimated.

I'm sitting in the crowded wreckage of what was a marginally organized bedroom, things piled up all over -- no change, really -- and the only thing that's organized is the whole pile of greek textbooks on the bookshelf.

While pulling all my books out and stacking them, to be reshelved, I found my old high school yearbooks. I have three of them; eighth grade I must have lost somewhere, and no loss; senior year I didn't buy a yearbook because I was broke and I didn't know my senior class, so who would sign it anyway? (And don't think that's me feeling sorry for myself. It's me spending fourty bucks on cds, instead of a heavy ugly book that I'll only look at the covers of if I ever pull it off the shelf.)

But I started reading a few of the signatures from grade eleven -- that's junior year, right? Anyway. Stuck in the pages, I found a scathing, semi-political editorial, half-mocking, half-melodramatic, that the president of student council wrote. He happened to be a fairly close friend of mine; during study blocks we'd sit there and bemoan being middle class, wealthy in his case, not straight in my case, and surrounded by people who fit nicely into uniforms.

I miss Ben. I really should call him sometime. I won't, of course, but I should. I don't even know where he is anymore, what his phone number is. This way, I'm frankly amazed that I've kept in touch with anybody anymore. I still speak with Will, but really, no one else from high school is in my life anymore. Even Sue and Randy, whom really I didn't get to know until first year university, have pretty much fallen away. I don't know if I've kept a friend more than two years, with the dubious exceptions of Will and Sue, whom I'm just now starting in with again. Will and I fight, we split, we hang out, we grow close. But man, lately. I don't know if I'll be able to keep Will. He's falling fast, and I can't handle being around him.

Who else have I known more than a year? I suppose, the #corner friends I've made, I've known for... well, gee, I'm not entirely sure.

I just typed up a very long paragraph, which all lead me to say, I'll have known you all probably, about, two years next spring. Know you well? A year October.

All of this was a roundabout way of saying, yes, I am cleaning my room. Hopefully I'll throw a lot of things out.

~

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