... a good de-stuffing or clutter control (II) ...

I keep my memories in boxes.

Photographs, ticket stubs, years of journals, snail-mail received, snail-mail never sent, (even some printed emails from when the internet was new), programs, playbills, business cards, birthday cards, thank you cards, valentine's day cards, easter cards, mix cds, mix tapes, various abandoned artwork, doodles, poetry on scraps of paper, ideas scribbled on napkins, dried flowers from important dances, weddings and other occasions...
                      The list continues.

Sometimes, I try to consolidate.  Pair things down.  But if I throw away my memories, how will I remember them?  Without a record of all you've done, how quickly those experiences might disappear without hope of a good reboot.

Recently, I became more organized, creating four neatly edited scrapbooks of our summer European travels.  (The remaining mementoes that didn't make the cut still take up too much space in my closet, but...

Now is the time.

I feel it in the air.  Rebirth.  New life.  Springtime.

I'm ready to be liberated from all (or at least half) of my material possessions, ready to feel my shoulders lighten.  And this thing called technology has promised to help out (part of the plan involves transferring cds to my harddrive -- brilliant!)

I've already been mentally cataloguing the t-shirts I can donate.  The papers I can shred.

And yet again, friends, it's that time of year, and I, who pride myself on originality, find myself fitting into still another timely cliche: a good Spring cleaning is just around the corner :)

... a good de-stuffing or clutter control ...

I'm stuck.  My neck is covered in every necklace I own, my ears weighted with too many earrings.  I am up to my neck in piles of dirty laundry, photographs, paintings, candles, books, memorabilia, kitchenware trying desperately to reach relief.

It's like doing the running man in wet cement.

Now Doc, what does this all mean?  

After having this nightmare, I usually go straight to my closet upon waking and begin scrutinizing each item within.  I start this endeavor with every intention of bringing at least half to Goodwill.  

Oh.. but what about this?  

             Remember that?  

                   I can't part with this one!  

And before you know it, I've decided to donate two tops and one pair of shoes that never fit in the first place.  I bag them up, put them by the door and a week later, when I still haven't made it to the donation center, I change my mind about the tops and hang them back up in a closet full of clothes that hardly ever make it out.  

It's like a prison.  For clothing.  Free the Apparel!

Unfortunately, clothes are just the beginning of my clutter problems, but slowly, very slowly, I'm getting better.  

For instance, there has been a Goodwill pile by the door for months now that I haven't gone back into.

Although... 

                now that I think about it... 

... time ...

Ah yes.  The common human conundrum.

My dear grasshopper.  My sweet little one.  Everyone struggles with time.

Eminent mortality.  No way around it.  The unavoidable end.  No one ever has enough.  How quickly it passes.

And so how do you cope?  The old saying rings true: so much to do, so little ... rest.

Many years of my life were spent in active protest.  I locked myself in a concrete bubble of reading, writing, wine, laughter and friends.  I made my academic deadlines, but other than that, time was merely a deity I did not believe in.

Then something changed.  A link, once out of place, suddenly fell in and I started pedaling.  Quickly.  Incessantly.  I made the decision to do it all, to take Nike's advice and just get it done. Traveling up a steady incline for some time, I have now reached a fairly flat plateau of frantic production.

Perhaps it is my biological clock screaming to be heard -- just a few more years of "my time" lady!  Wake up!   

Two part-time jobs, two part-time schools, two volunteer gigs, babysitting and an artistic thesis that keeps getting bigger with each new sketch.  To top it off, I am socializing with the same mentality -- partying like I'm recently legal, never missing an opportunity to drink wine until sunrise, constantly in search of potential friends... something's gotta go.

And unfortunately, it's the time.

Time to go to bed.

Time to sleep, to relax.

For tomorrow is another day, full of potential productivity.