Roomy Room

So, here you'll see my room. I tried to make it as clear as possible. It's quite a small room and you might say that it's more like a closet. When you look at the desk, ask yourself: Is it too big, too small, or just right? This is a lot less interesting than you think, but some people want to see it, so here we go.


Everything is labeled for easy understanding. What you see here is probably the "Activity Center" of the room, the central hub of my activity in Chicago.


The desk on the left is the same desk in the first picture, and the door is my only exit. And the lamp... Well, you'll understand that in a moment.


This is the full extent of the room. both the rug and the blanket are new and from Ikea (just like the shower curtain, desk, and bookshelf. Great deals). I can't take the tour much further without being repetitive, but you'll have to trust me when I say the parts you missed are worth missing.

Lyndsey made me think about my favorite Over the Rhine songs, and I'd have to say they are Give Me Strength, from Films for Radio; Ohio, and Changes Come, both from Ohio; and then a song from Good Dog, Bad Dog that I only heard once. And I have to say I love the line from Changes Come that goes "This ol' world's too fucked up for any firstborn son." Just the way she spits out the f-word, like Alanis Morrisette on You Oughtta Know.

Today I finally opened up Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee after a significant break from reading for no good reason at all. The problem with reading this book is that the ending of every story is relatively the same: the Indians lose. Either they lose their lives or their land or their dignity, every time, it's something that is less than satisfactory. Today, I had the unfortunate experience of reading what has to be the worst of the stories in the book.
In summary, a guy named Captain Jack, leader of the Modocs, holds out from making peace with the US because his friends, who murdered settlers, beg him not to. Then they call him a coward and demand that he kill the General at the peace conference, which he then does. Then they desert him and ask for amnesty in exchange for hunting him down. Eventually he was captured and hanged. He was betrayed by the friends he had refused to betray. That sucks.

But, it got me thinking in a Social Justice way, and I realized that I had wanted to write a letter a week, like Jess had proposed as a New Year's Resolution. But I haven't done that. So I made a list of people I wanted to write to. You have lots of time when you don't have a job. First up is Starbucks, to say congrats on a good job, but also, why aren't you doing a better job? I'm going to try and figure out who exactly to address it to and will probably post it either tonight or tomorrow. Is posting my letters a bad thing? Why or why not? Is it irritating that I'm trying to force my convictions upon you?