(This post is copied from my ‘real’ blog, but I think it’s appropriate here as well.)
Everything is great. I have a tiny house that I built, and a plan to simplify my life. Naturally, it is much easier to say “simplify” than it is to make it so. To actually perform the act, I will need to throw away, donate, and sell a ton of stuff. I’ve begun.
Two trailer loads so far have gone to the landfill. I don’t love hiding my mistakes and problems under a layer of earth, but it is an effective approach when it is not possible to travel through time and abstain from the initial acquisition. I have a tendency to hold onto items for later projects or other imagined uses. I’ve recently had to remind myself that I am full of shit. It is more important to be rid of this stuff. Some of it was big. Rotten siding and windows had to go; I’m not going to dismantle a desk to harvest the wood for anything. Got. To. Go.
I’m a collector – or at least I always have been one. I have half a closet full of Mad Magazines and ephemera. That was my first collection. Since then, I’ve started at least a dozen others. “Please Wash Hands” signs, from the time in my life where ripping signs off walls was funny. In that vein, I also have my collection of carpets with the logos of the businesses that I took them from. (This was a ballsy collection, but admittedly still a totally awesome one.) I also have about ten miniature guitars; none longer than 32″ overall. I don’t play guitar. Mini Band broke up in 2005. I have a world famous condiment packet collection. Most of them are preserved in plastic baseball card-style cases and sleeves. Thousands of packets didn’t make it to the site before I quit. I had four medium boxes of full packets, some of which were starting to stink. I had unopened correspondence from admirers, and unanswered letters from children who love the site. It was heartbreaking to let this go, but those boxes had to go.
That might not sound bad. But – as you might guess, someone with that list of belongings probably has a lot of other shit lurking around as well. You would be correct. I do.
My belongings have become a burden. I need to let go to be free. I have an unnatural sentimental attachment to bullshit. I am hacking at these ties like a bushwhacker with a machete.
By way of explanation for the last grim update here, I’ll say that the ADD pills I’ve been taking might be partly to blame. I quit taking them when I suspected they might be making me angry-sad every time they start to wear off. The past few days have been better. My brain is still a muffin floating in cake batter, but at least I haven’t been taking the fact so hard.