Not A Complex Person.

Currently, my desk is not very neat. It’s dirtiness reflects upon the habits and routines that I have developed in the almost half year since I have moved into the city and have started working.

As of 2:31 AM, December 12, my desk is currently covered with four magazines, an umbrella, a teacup with old tea leaves, an empty bottle of beer, a scattering of receipts and schedule print outs, a small dish covered in crumbs, various computer-related cables, a green ceramic bowl with a spoonful of melted ice cream, a single rechargeable battery in its charger, my last filled journal, two pencil holders, a lamp, a clock that has not been properly adjusted for daylight savings time, business cards collected over the course of several night outings, a stack of old resumés in a leather folder, three books, two paper trays that were meant to sort documents but have clearly failed to fulfill their roles, all my old paycheck stubs from my last job, a necklace, my phone, my wallet, an iPod without headphones, a CD that my sister randomly found in a boombox that she also randomly found, a laptop sleeve, and one extremely stretched out rubber band.