musical baton

pusangpalaboy passed me this some days (weeks?) back...I think its time to carry on the "musical tradition"..hence:

Total volume of music files on my computer
A measly 1Gig! But then again, I AM at work (excuses excuses)...I have CDs, not mp3s...and event hen, I dont really have an extensive CD collection...
uh, why was I passed this baton again? :p

The last CD I bought
Tori Amos' latest album, The Beekeeper
Cynthia Alexander's latest album, Comet's Tail

Song playing right now
Comet's Tail has been playing over and over since last week, right now I'm listening to the second track yet again, Thioviolight

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me
Ghost by Indigo Girls
Black by Pearl Jam
What You Are by Audioslave
Moving by Kjwan
Alone by Cynthia Alexander

Hmmm...if I have to explain why, well, they mean a lot to me! Wow what an explanation harhar...I dont know...I'm a words + music kind of person, the beat has to match the words for me to really go crazy over the song. Don't know what I mean? Listen to any of those songs on my list!

Five people to whom I’m passing the baton
Lets see...
cherrychixx
teedge
yellowadidas
jeng
jill

orange.attic.yellow.

A few nights ago, I faced the inevitable: spending the night again in my own room. I know I've been home for quite some time already, but I've always just been using my parents room since they were away most of the time. But when the time came, I felt a wonderful sense of finally, really, coming home.

There, amidst my orange plastic flowers hanging from the uneven attic ceiling, the spirit of who I have always been remain. The books and journals stacked up and filling up my shelves are the same ones that bore witness (and continue to, still) to all thoughts and aspirations --- childish or otherwise --- that I have always had. My oversized bed gave the same refuge and comfort that it has consistently offered me from my days as a procrastinating student. And yes, the three white-washed closet doors still hold clothes that reveal how often my weight has fluctuated these past years, and how often I have rummaged within, complaining that I have nothing to wear.

And there is one thing that remains ever consistent -- I still have the same tendency to put my room last among all rooms in the house. My shelves still need thorough dusting, my floors need waxing, my cabinets need re-organizing. I've given my energy to the other rooms in the house these past weeks, I dont have that much left for mine.

My room speaks of who I am. It knows who I am, who I was and can probably answer my nagging questions of who I will be more accurately than I can. It knows how to be who I am...it knows how it is to be disregarded somewhat and saved for last by the same people it holds dear.

The art of isolating a single thread of thought has always been something I could not master. At one point I had considered it to be a trait similar to multi-tasking: an ability to process several things in less time than expected. But as with everything that is not thoroughly dealt with, each single thread processed simultaneously with others do not enjoy the quality of being thoroughly attended to. Thus I have vowed to learn how to slice apart one chunk of thought into several fragments, and to treat each with as much pampering and processing as I possibly can. And it begins today, with this lone entry on my new vow which I will endeavor to keep.