I haven’t seen my floor for weeks. It’s been covered in clothes, bags, books, shoes. Whenever I needed something to wear, I would just dig through a pile and throw stuff around. I went to the beach… like a month ago, and my suitcase was still on my floor, with stuff in it. Disclaimer: I do NOT usually live like this. Like, at all. I think it’s something about the fact that I’m moving in less than a month, I feel like I can’t really settle anywhere. Moving, moving, moving. Stuff from here to there, there to here. I am a slave to my stuff. This realization seems to be a pretty constant theme in my life, nevertheless I continue to accumulate stuff and move it around.
You see, I think I’m attracted to stuff. I remember when I was younger, my mom would always get onto me for the state of the surfaces in my room. My dresser was always smothered with perfume bottles, photographs, jewelry boxes, miniature statues, and other trinkets – all artfully placed and stacked. My desk was always piled high with books, papers, painting projects, vases with flowers, collections of things. I took to calling it my style, it was “organized chaos.” I was too easily charmed by pretty little things, and of course I wanted them on display. While I realize now that a surface loses its functionality when it is completely covered, I think my fixation with pretty things is still in full swing. Thus, I continue to collect stuff – only to sell it or give it away the next time I go through a cleaning out phase.
While I’m definitely nowhere near hoarder status (those television shows are terrifying), I would like to be less attached to stuff, and to appreciate more the things I have. I would love to live simply. So I cleaned. I cleaned, and I cleaned, and once again I have bags of things to give away. I washed clothes, and with every item I folded, I thanked God that I am so blessed. Actually that’s an exaggeration – that only lasted for about half of the load and then my mind began to wander. Do you see how much I take all this stuff for granted? Will this cycle ever end? I feel so at peace when I get clutter out of my life… and then I have to go out and buy that new kitchen gadget, or another scarf.
Well folks, I have no words of wisdom here. Life seems to be a cycle full of endless cycles. But the dryer just beeped at me so I have more clothes to fold. I guess I can say when you make a mess of things, clean it up. You’ll feel better.
Oh, and I’d rather not show you pictures of my messy room. Actually I don’t have any.
Here, I made pie and drank beer with friends: