When I started my career in technical support, the people I admired the most had the most information. Their years of experience, context, and intuition were inspiring, so of course, throughout my career, I wanted to emulate those well-informed individuals. I no longer need esoteric technical knowledge to that degree. Why hold onto most of it? I would only read passages on occasion, anyways. Best to keep one or two references then donate the rest.
No one talked about insobriety-related problems when I was growing up. Not just familial, but any media. While it’s a weird, controversial thought: If there’d been even one source of media, one cartoon, that accurately addressed how terrible it is to live with this aching sense of addiction aimed at children, I probably wouldn’t have started. But then, if something like this existed, would I be here? Or would someone else be writing this column?
My VHS collection sat for months, inconveniently blocking an aisleway, intentionally being an intentional eyesore. Incidentally, with months of packing, donating, and keeping context, and a renewed interest in watching occasional movies, I’ve purged anything that I can watch in a higher definition or anything that isn’t rare/resellable. VHS represents a particular aesthetic for me, so if I’m going to enjoy it, it needs to be manageable, otherwise, I won’t want to deal with it.
When I moved furniture for minimal wage, we estimated the two densest things to move: textiles, then books. Bundles of rolled-up carpet were only beat by furniture. Large boxes of books might not seem bad until you have to move it a few times or the fatigue kicks in. All the boxes I’m using for books are smaller than around 12″ width, 12″ height, and 12″ depth. You never know who’ll give you a hand. Strong or otherwise.
“Home is where you can be you.” “There’s the quote.” “Yeah.[1,2,3]” Part of this extended process of detaching from my home I’ve built up over the course of seven years has been to learn to become more comfortable being “me” while abroad. My social anxiety is when I’m too focused on keeping my mask on, being a certain way, or having to be concerned with how my persona is perceived. Instead, just be you everywhere.
I haven’t been consistently exercising since I kicked this massive downsizing decluttering project, “Moving Zeal,” and there are parts of me that are justifying that by saying: “Well, you’re moving boxes around. Some are really heavy.” I also have been not sedentary for most of the day, so my metabolism is up. I’m sleeping more, too, and my weight has been within the same range. Still, I miss rowing: the effort, obligation, and self-confident satisfaction.
Every shelf emptied eventually gets filled. It’s been a weird ebb and flow seeing empty shelves when I sit down to write one evening, then seeing full shelves the next evening, but I suppose for large-scale packing projects of recovering hoarders, adjusting to life without so much clutter everywhere, natural tendencies easily return, and yet, over the course of these past few months I’ve made significant, prolific changes. The shelf is half-full or half-empty, perhaps…