Cold, dirty apartment

Currently I sit on the couch in my apartment.  It’s messy.  Matzo has been crushed beneath feet into the carpet, beneath bums into the papisan chair, and beneath my butt right now into the couch.  Some mystery prankster decided it would be cool to Christmas wrap our front door and leave us some popcorn for movie night tonight.  By popcorn, I mean about a trash bag full of already popped popcorn is lying on our doorstep, cleverly up against the door so that this morning when Kelsey, the roommate, opened it… everything fell inside.  We’ve yet to clean anything, and our room has looked like we had a party in it since the night before last when we kind of did.  Can anyone say “first all-nighter of the school year”?

I’m not sure what I’ll do today.  I’ve got an aching for some photography after looking at Stephen McGee’s blog.  I’m encouraged by his dedication to Christ and his uncanny ability to capture a breathtaking picture.  However, as much as I would love to go and just take photos all day and find some outrageously amazing new places (to me) in the Kissimmee/St. Cloud area, I should probably be studying.  I mean… Finals week is next week, meaning this week is supposed to be Hell Week.  Ironically enough, I couldn’t be more at ease.  Maybe it’s because I’m only taking twelve credit hours and don’t have a lot of work in any of my classes, but I should be freaking out about my Apologetics final.  I’m not so sure how that will go, and I’m just a tad bit nervous about it.  But my good friend Kaylyn forked over some of her notes from last year, so they may help.  Fingers crossed.

This apartment is incredibly dirty.  For real.  I’m the type of person (well, all four of us in the apartment are the type of people) who see a mess, say “eh, we’ll clean it later because it sort of looks like we had a rockin’ time,” and then clean it up in a day or two.  So far, it’s been a day or two.  Still no cleaning has taken place, except for my half-hearted attempt, which included me picking up the three N64 controllers and putting them in their bin.  The messy of the apartment reminds me of the messy of my life, how I just kind of see it there but don’t really do anything about it, or make a feeble attempt to get rid of it.  And it’s so true, how I just acknowledge the problem, the dirty in my life, and then don’t do anything about it to change it or clean it up.

And the worst part is that part of me is okay with this.  Part of me doesn’t really mind, doesn’t really care that I have some dirt in my life.  And that makes the other part of me, that really does care and really does want it out of my life, sad.  Does that make sense?  Tell me I’m not the only complacent one.  Tell me I’m not the only stupid one out there who, for some reason, constantly chooses to have dirt in their life.  It hurts my heart that I allow myself to get this dirty, only have to have some sort of Spring cleaning that stresses me out and causes me to have a mental and emotional breakdown.

So this blog doesn’t get any longer, here’s what I’m going to do:  I’m going to clean up my life.  I’ve already confessed to a dear friend a sin that has been weighing me down for a while, and we are now accountability partners in that, and we even have an awesome, legit, fun code-name for when we need prayer.  But since it’s a code name, I can’t tell the world.  (:

Anyways, more later.

In Him,
Meg Tuck