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Last night was the speakeasy show. A nice event, but by the end I was pretty cranky and unable to "put the lady down" when it came to a lot of small frustrating moments. I don't like when nights end that way, it taints the hours before, but it happens.
Spent most of the afternoon prostrate, recovering from reactive hypoglycemia or cigarette hangover/dehydration or some other made-up psychosomatic illness that left me with a headache and sluggishness. Currently I'm off the bed or couch and trying to finish cleaning out the office. I made it worse the other day because I pulled out all the hidden boxes and tubs and started sorting that paperwork as well. Now I'm overwhelmed by the size of the task. So I must write.
The boxes I'm finally sorting through are a mix of paperwork/bills from the past five years (easy) and paraphanelia that I brought home from five years at my day job (hard). Yes, I've been self-employed and freelancing and free of the 40 hour yoke for seven months now, but I haven't gotten around to cleaning out my desk from the era. I think part of me needed some space from the materials -- I was simultaneously too attached to strange artifacts, but I was also sick and tired of looking at trinkets and papers that sat in my cubicle for so long. Now that I have some distance, it's a lot easier to sort, to save and to pitch things out. But even the stuff I know I want to save, I'm still not sure what to do with it. Old photos I used to prominently display. Love notes. Ridiculous and funny and sentimenal birthday cards. The baby bib. I guess just put it all in a plastic tub marked "memorabilia". I used to have boxes of that stuff. Now they get smaller each year, rather than bigger. I wonder if the old version of me will be sad that I don't have random tangible items to call up memories. Or if my kids will be mad there's nothing for them to sift through to discover who I was before they came along.
Maybe that's what livejournal is for. It takes up way less space in the house.
But I'm obviously throwing away the bobble-head of Colonel Sanders. I never liked it much anyway, but it was a gift and guilt kept in on my desk and also put it in the box I carried home. Now I can effortlessly add it to the growing pile of giveaway/donation items, with no trace of obligation in sight.
I'm suddenly inspired to pitch EVERYthing. Good energy to harness for the mammoth task.
Spent most of the afternoon prostrate, recovering from reactive hypoglycemia or cigarette hangover/dehydration or some other made-up psychosomatic illness that left me with a headache and sluggishness. Currently I'm off the bed or couch and trying to finish cleaning out the office. I made it worse the other day because I pulled out all the hidden boxes and tubs and started sorting that paperwork as well. Now I'm overwhelmed by the size of the task. So I must write.
The boxes I'm finally sorting through are a mix of paperwork/bills from the past five years (easy) and paraphanelia that I brought home from five years at my day job (hard). Yes, I've been self-employed and freelancing and free of the 40 hour yoke for seven months now, but I haven't gotten around to cleaning out my desk from the era. I think part of me needed some space from the materials -- I was simultaneously too attached to strange artifacts, but I was also sick and tired of looking at trinkets and papers that sat in my cubicle for so long. Now that I have some distance, it's a lot easier to sort, to save and to pitch things out. But even the stuff I know I want to save, I'm still not sure what to do with it. Old photos I used to prominently display. Love notes. Ridiculous and funny and sentimenal birthday cards. The baby bib. I guess just put it all in a plastic tub marked "memorabilia". I used to have boxes of that stuff. Now they get smaller each year, rather than bigger. I wonder if the old version of me will be sad that I don't have random tangible items to call up memories. Or if my kids will be mad there's nothing for them to sift through to discover who I was before they came along.
Maybe that's what livejournal is for. It takes up way less space in the house.
But I'm obviously throwing away the bobble-head of Colonel Sanders. I never liked it much anyway, but it was a gift and guilt kept in on my desk and also put it in the box I carried home. Now I can effortlessly add it to the growing pile of giveaway/donation items, with no trace of obligation in sight.
I'm suddenly inspired to pitch EVERYthing. Good energy to harness for the mammoth task.
