I’ve moved almost everything from my former residence to my new apartment. Now I must downsize my possessions even further. Even though I got rid of the most obvious stuff before signing the year-long lease here, the ten days it took me to move in instilled this sense that I must downsize even further. If I want to have an office, “Zeal,” then I can’t have all this stuff obstructing my literal or figurative path.
Now that I’m fully moved out of the old place, that’s it, right? For this book, yes. For this journey, no. For broad strokes, we’ve already forged ahead with plans to release these Moving Zeal essays as an ebook under our Betterslog publishing house. By this essay’s publication, I will be knee-deep in the sequel, Downsizing Zeal, and that journey begins now, after having filled a two-bedroom apartment. That book’s goal: a one-day, one?-truck move.
I’ve reached the point in this move where all the big stuff is moved over. Now it’s just the little bits. As I bring over more carloads, because I don’t want to burden anyone else with these boxes and boxes of things, I can fully conceptualize just how much of this I don’t want anymore. It’s not a reckless purge. More that I’m going to decisively cut all that doesn’t serve me or my writing.
I passed on some free Magic: The Gathering cards this week. They were the sort of free where the only requirement was going up to someone, talking to them, and then receiving the free deck of cards. Except that’s only somewhat free. Once you put something like that in your bag, along with everything else you collected that day, it becomes another thing to worry about, store, or otherwise deal with days… or years later.
My legs have five major bruises, I slammed my left hand into a wall, my back hurts, and I still have a few carloads and truckloads to go. From my time doing mildly-heavy labor – if moving furniture, computers, donations, and scrap metal count for anything – I had learned, and am relearning, the value of taking care of myself. I’ve got a few more days of stuff to move, so there’s no need to burn out.
I think we procrastinate when an activity is too difficult to imagine how to start. I’ve been procrastinating on deciding my fitness lifestyle for the better part of the past month, if not multiple months, and it’s been a mild irritant that’s just been permeating everything I do, but in minor ways. I can only express my stress so much through words. When others tell me about their gym memberships, I experience something weird: jealousy.
As I sat in the lobby waiting for my interviewer to arrive, I thought about how I only own one polo shirt now, and three dress shirts that aren’t white. I prefer a limited professional wardrobe. Call it laziness, or inspired by videogame characters, but I see no point in spending any effort showing myself off in various colors. Which is funny to contrast with the multitude of concert shirts I own, but there’s logic.