Springtime; a Ring a Ding a Dingtime. Birds sing-ing. Sweet lovers love... The Spring!

The trouble with the rearranging of the room is the mess that follows. Because, naturally, I couldn't just move my bed, bookcase, dresser, desk, and the like without having to purge the closet of unneeded clothes and stuble upon many a random object which my inner PackRat is utterly unwilling to toss.

Junior year has been a change for me. I became myself over the course of this year. Though, yes, I've always been myself, but I think I reached that destination to the fullest extent this year. So far.

I no longer stay in my shell until I warm up to people; I'm perfectly content, now, being my bizarre, obseen self right off the bat. People probably wish I wasn't. But I am.

Not to mentoin I'm pretty now. Not saying that to fall back into my recently escaped Bifu land, but truthfully, looking at pictures of me just last year, I've blossomed.

Thank you orthodonist.

And nature.

So naturally I must attend to my surroundings and dispell all those things that keep me linked to the me of the past. She was a good, lovely, spunky little gal, but her term is up. It's time to remember her in pictures and humorous journal entries; not every corner of my room.

So, oddly, I am able to admit I've caught the spring cleaning bug.

And perhaps that's part of this newfound me. Perhaps, and I'm not carving this in stone, perhaps I like to clean.

Or perhaps I like adventure.

And that pile of miscellaneous is my grandest adventure to date.