Twenty-four rooms in the hallway of my mind and the new room is just next door, the last one on the right. The new Tenant is already moved-in, a confused look on his face – unsure as to just what happened in the last year as if he wasn't a part of it, or merely too separated from it to remember.
I've always hated new rooms. The lock is intricate, dead-bolt – complex to keep everyone out. The door is heavy, solid wood – restraining to keep everything in.
Inside the paint is an off-white color. Its only begun to dry and yet its already starting to fade. There's a crack in the ceiling and a creak in the floor. I can't tell if its the age or my flaws.
The room is already furnished. Organization becomes Compartmentalization as everything is hidden away in its proper place. Hobbies in a chest, Vices on the shelves, Problems under the rug, Secrets in a dresser, Nightmares in the closet.
But its all wrong. It shouldn't be this neat, not this clean. It needs to go, all the furniture needs to go. Scatter the remains of myself onto the floor. Because my Legos have never played Call of Duty; my Power Rangers have never met the Marlboro Man; my Teddy Bear never tasted Johnnie Walker; my Saturday Morning Cartoons have never seen my Friday Night Binges.
I remove the hinges and drop the door. Twenty-three pairs of feet shuffle in the hall. Twenty-three Tenants I've still yet to meet but already know too well. Twenty-three who stare horrified at the living landfill I've turned my room, my year, into.
Turning back I see the pile mix and mold, already starting to take shape – an ear here, a toe there. I don't remember if I'm supposed to water it or not. Its been too long since we've grown a complete Tenant but now's as good a time as any to start again. An itch on my neck reminds me I'll need to buy a screen door. I don't want mosquitoes getting in, after all.
I really did plan to update this on my birthday as a way to write a new Introduction piece for this next year (the first one was the first post I wrote). But like most plans, it was doomed to fail, especially after I found out the deadline for this comic script contest was in a week (later it got pushed back to Sept. 23). Thus everything I was working on, including job applications and resume revisions, got pushed to the back burner for awhile (this is actually one reason for my current, unemployed status). Luckily I finished and submitted my entry so I'm just waiting til tomorrow with my fingers crossed.
And now I've completely forgotten what I was going to say. I've always sucked with transitions (which is why moving into post-grad life has been a pain-in-the-ass). Honestly, aside from graduation, I can't really think of anything really big that I've accomplished in this past year. My only immediate goals seem to just be getting a job that I can at least tolerate going to.
