Perfectionist

I’ve come to a realization: I clean when I’m frustrated.

I think it’s my way of trying to make my surroundings representative of what I want my head to be: organized, neat, a place for everything and everything in its place. A dirty house is the product of a dirty mind (no, not like that).

It probably doesn’t help that I’m a bit of a perfectionist and get annoyed when things aren’t done to my specifications. I suppose if you want something done right…

On the other hand, the manual labor involved in the process is amazing in terms of working through the frustration and cleaning up the mind. A clean house is the mark of a contented and well-arranged mind.

In other, completely unrelated news, my apartment is now spotless.
And I feel pretty damn good.

The Lighthouse’s Tale

The Lighthouse’s Tale – Nickel Creek

I am a lighthouse,
Worn by the weather and the waves.
I keep my lamp lit,
To warn the sailors on their way.

I’ll tell a story,
Paint you a picture from my past.
I was so happy
For joy in this lifestyle long lasts.

I had a keeper.
He helped me warn the ships at sea.
We had grown closer,
Till his joy meant everything to me.

And he was to marry
A girl who shone with beauty and light,
And they loved each other,
And with me watched the sunsets into nights.

And the waves crashing around me,
The sand slips out to sea,
And the winds that blow remind me
Of what has been
And what can ever be.

She’d had to leave us.
My keeper, he prayed for her safe return.
But when the night came,
The weather to a raging storm had turned.

He watched her ship fight
But in vain against the well and terrible wind.
In me so helpless,
As dashed against the rocks she met her end.

And the waves crashing around me,
The sand slips out to sea,
And the winds that blow remind me,
Of what has been
And what can ever be.

Then on the next day,
My keeper found her washed up on the shore.
He kissed her cold face,
That they’d be together soon he swore.

I saw him crying,
Watched as he buried her in the sand.
And then he climbed my tower,
And off the edge of me he ran

And the waves crashing around me,
The sand slips out to sea,
And the winds that blow remind me,
Of what has been
And what can ever be.

I am a lighthouse,
Worn by the weather and the waves.
And though I’m empty,
I still warn the sailors on their way.