This is all that I have gotten

My room is slightly messy. The bedspread is crumpled on my dirty grey sheets. A box covered with wrapping paper of dogs in birthday hats lays in the midst of it all, a green box floating in a purple and green sea. My black, half-opened umbrella, wet from the rain outdoors, sits in the corner drying out until I have to use it again. I’ve begun working on the CD labels for my Aubrey mix, which are lying on the floor next to my chair, near my backpack and rumpled Skittle wrappers. A few cans of Pepsi sit on my messy desk, one full of old flat soda, the other my current drink. Nail polish that I used to paint my toes needs to be put away, but I am too lazy to do so. Dandy Warhols are playing on my cheap boombox on my bureau near my makeup, and I’m sitting at my laptop waiting for four o’clock to roll around so that I can go and take my rock and roll test.

. . . . .

I’ve left the slightly lived in look of my room, and am finishing this entry in the lobby of the main building of Collins, 600 yards away from my dorm. Night has fallen, and the light rain from this afternoon has given way to a full out thunderstorm, complete with dramatic flashing lightning and loud thunderclaps. I’m soaking wet from walking to this building, sloshing through the flooded streets up to my knees in my jeans and shoes. In the end I ran up to the building, closing my umbrella because I don’t like using an umbrella in the midst of a thunderstorm. My hair is still stringy and wet, and I had to change clothes as soon as I reached Nate’s room. I feel odd being in shorts this early in the evening, but I will live.