Humble Bumble

I like to say my home is a humble and nice place to live in. It’s nothing that special, being in a sea of mostly identical homes, but there are some daily pleasures that keep it from being a soulless shell and keep me in high spirits.

The Futon – Basically the centerpiece furniture, right in front of the TV. Where I wake up and blog everyday. Soft, comfortable, luxurious, and an eater of all possessions. I find myself taking my socks on and off, feeling so lazy and relaxed. My place of inspiration. I’m thinking about creating a new a blog and calling it something like “The Futon Chronicles” or “Life from the Futon”.

Futon photo futon_zpsbl94h6zx.jpg

Electric organ – Even though I haven’t played it in months, it’s a nice addition and gives the house a classier look, for what it’s worth. Right now it acts as a junk collector, gathering dust. No one in the family is really musically inclined or even interested in music, which is why the organ is becoming another useless piece of furniture. I tried learning to play the organ, tried learning simple songs from a children’s beginner book, but gave up after realizing it wasn’t going to take me anywhere.

Flat screen TV – Best thing to come out of my free college money. Most likely wouldn’t have bought a new TV without that free money but would have still been using a fat and heavy CRT. There are only ten channels that appear on that TV through an antenna. The alternative is Netflix and YouTube through the Blu-ray player, which has much more variety and freedom from the same stuff everyday. Stephen Colbert is great though. Great work, CBS, getting this fresh and humorous comedian to replace the stale Letterman.

Fridge – I must open this 20 times a day, hoping to find something new but it’s always the same bare essentials.

Posters – I’m collecting one every couple days, trying to make my abandoned room look more colorful and fun. Covering up all the bare walls and making the room an adventure to walk into everyday is a crazy goal of mine.

My dream home would be one resting by the lake. I would love to have a boat to ride out on every day for a day of relaxation, sightseeing, and maybe fishing for large mouth bass and shrimp. Of course, I wouldn’t find living in an apartment in New York City either, hearing the cars and people being restless all night while I lie awake in my bed five stories up staring up at the moonlight being cast on the ceiling. There’s something about the noises in the dead of the end that make me have some real vivid dreams.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Home Turf.”

Name five things in your house that make it a home.

Photography 101: House/Street

I missed the first day of Photography 101 because I signed up late, but no bother: here is what I call the house of my dreams, taken while walking alongside a busy road one day.  I love the shadow that is being cast by the tree in front and how all three trees and the shrubberies seem to guard the house.


And here are my pictures for the second day of Photo 101: the boulevard of my mobile community dressed in its annual snowy white and a monstrous overcast above the main road in my hometown.

PTDC0038 (3)

0109 The Boulevard



To access the state of this room
I had to sit in a while
And think how it came to be
How it reached it’s chaotic ways
How it was abandoned by me

The troops came marching in
Everything was horrid
Had to be disbanded
No more place for snoring

The need to stay here waned
The desk became cluttered
Clothes scattered everywhere
Steps became stuttered

This of long time ago
When so much talk was about
TV watching, bed gazing
And maybe thoughts of getting out

Piled higher than Mount Everest
Chairs littered with books
Now posters hang on the walls
Still giving me funny looks

Like a perpetual museum
Everything collecting dust
Guitar still sits in the closet
No string plucked in months

Bed frame upturned, forever unslept in
Taped up walls, always decrepit

Music passes through my ears
Taking in the sights and sounds
I am the champion
Of this old playground

The one that started everything
Raised my spirits and gave me pain
Round and round I go
Cycling in and out this plane

Things keep changing, changing
Time keeps moving, moving
If beige walls could speak
They’d tell me of all the memories rooming

Lone shoe
Unworn in years
Now I clear my slate
And cast away my fears

Finally basking in my finest hour
My little square sanctuary
Where I can think about tomorrow

This room is like a jungle
So much strewn about
A forgotten business idea
Now just cards of thought

Cedar poster on the wall
Christmas stockings still hang about
Until when needed
They never shout

This room was abandoned 
But now it is filled 
Seeing my love again 
Thawing out the chilled

But it might not last long
For there is little here to see
The only thing keeping it afloat
Is the creative mind of me

What’s messier right now — your bedroom or you computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.