[astigmatic much?] pith.org content, daily-like
most recently
archive

Friday April 13, 2001, 02:51

I just turned off the light in my bedroom because I am afraid of what I might see when I turn around. Unlike the child who sleeps with the lights on to avoid the unseen horrors that will inevitably arise when the lights go out, I plunge myself into darkness (if you will allow a bit of melodrama here for the moment) so that I will not have to see a ten year collection of papers and magazine clippings that have in recent days found their way out of their hiding places and into the middle of my floor.

I am cleaning my room, you see.

And the truth of the matter is that I am something of a packrat. And something of an obsessive sort of compulsive sort of behavior. In my closet I have discovered pads and pads of paper, empty, for I was never able to write in them. I was afraid to mar the pages. Sick, I know. I'm sort of getting better at that.

And so I am cleaning. Realizing that it is time for me to clean up my life a bit, lighten the load so to speak, and that this time that I am home will afford me the perfect opportunity to do so. Well, that and I'm moving again soon and don't want to take all of this shit with me. That, and my mother told me to. And if there's anything I don't want to do now that I'm living at home again is to piss off my mother. Because, well. Mom. You know.

The problem of course arises that just when I think that I have tackled a large portion of the mess of my room (most recently this was the collection of boxes that have lived behind my bed since I graduated from college [ a period of time that can now be counted in years -- plural ] that were full of books, papers and a barking seal -- arrf, arrf) I will turn around and find another portion of the room that has not yet been organized.

The current trauma that is my floor occurred when I opened the closet.

I discovered a document entitled "Your Guide To Office Communications -- QUIK-COMM to FAX -- February 1989 -- 3410.72-10." I have officially entered the 80s in my cross-sectioning of the papers in this room, and this is frightening to me. More frightening than even the 2400 baud modem that I dug up is the fact that I actually kept all of these materials, thinking that, for some unknown reason, the picture to my eighth grade science project (a wind tunnel, if you must know) could actually prove useful to me in the future.

More frightening still is that as I go through these papers there are still piles of them that I will save for at least another ten years, until such time that I will decide that they are most certainly no longer timely and I will at that point discard of them without a second thought. So why can't I save myself the trouble and storage space now by just tossing them out with the Office Communications guide? No reason, I suppose, other than the fact that saving this stuff (for lack of a better word) gives me some sense of grounding. Something to come home to. Comfort clutter.

Hey look! It's my copy of Steal This Book (not stolen, regrettably), right next to my high school diploma and an issue of the publication from my high school's Students For Social Justice organization. Among other things. Other things that I can't see because the lights are off and if I stand up to try to get to said things I will probably trip over a large pile of books that I packed up at the end of my college career and promptly forgot about until I finally discarded of the pile of papers that had been sitting on top of it. I was wondering where my copy of "Power Programming Motif" went. I will most likely never read it again.

Well, not that "Power Programming Motif" is really a book that you curl up in bed with, lights turned low, aromatic candles lit, flickering on the window sill. But anyway.

I realized today as I walked out to the end of the driveway to drop the exercise bike off next to the mailbox for the garbage pickup tomorrow (the entire house is going into some sort of pre-spring spring cleaning it would seem [ pre-spring as I refuse to acknowledge the arrival of spring until it actually shows up]) that it's been a while since I actually looked down at the stream that runs through the front yard, under the driveway, and through the woods towards town. I used to build dams in that stream, lifting rocks, rearranging sticks, and screaming and jumping out of the water when I disturbed a slithering pile of baby snakes under one particular rock. Or the time I looked down under the waterfall (little, little waterfall) and saw a large stone that looked vaguely like a turtle.

"Look!" I cried. "That rock looks like a turtle."

It was a turtle. And it lived there for much of the summer until one day, it was just gone. I like to think that it swam downstream to the pond where it lived and played. But the pond was recently emptied as a result of a hurricane destroying the dam and sending the contents rushing out, across the parkway and into the town. So really, I'm not sure what happened to the turtle.

Maybe it's home cleaning its room. That'd be a hoot.

[ permanent link ]

[ email love | your love | consumer love ]

------------------

search the past

remember the past

1999
    aug 04 05 06 08 09 11 12 15 17 22 26 30
    sep 01 03 07 12 20 28
    oct 04 14 18 22
    nov 02 07 12 19 25 26 27
    dec 12 15 18 28 31

2000
    jan 02 06 11 12 18 29
    feb 03 10 14 17 21 23 28 29
    mar 05 06 20 22 25 26
    apr 02 05 06 08 09 10 12 13 17 20 21 24 25 28 29
    may 03 05 08 11 12 15 17 17b 18 18b 21 23 25 29 30 31
    jun 01 01b 03 06 07 08 10 13 14 16 18 21 23 25 30
    jul 03 06 09 10 13 16 26
    aug 02 03 04 08 10 17 21 25 29
    sep 06 07 12 13 18 24
    oct 06 11 12 19 30 31
    nov 08 11 22 26 30
    dec 01 10 14 21 30

2001
    jan 01 09 14 16 30
    feb 11 15 20 22
    mar 06 08 09 21 25 30
    apr 01 04 05 09 13 18 23 24 25 28
    may 04 09 11 14 16 17 21 25 31
    jun 02 08 20 21 28 29
    jul 07 13 17 28
    aug 14 24 26
    sep 09 12 23 24
    oct 10 26 28 31
    nov 11 17 18 28 30
    dec 02 08 15 18 26

2002
    jan 03 07 08 18 20 23
    feb 04 05 17 19 22
    mar 06 10 13 15 17
    apr 13 16 19 26
    may 03 13 16 21
    jun 08 15 21
    jul 03 05 10 18 24
    aug 03 18
    sep 11 20
    oct 03 05
    nov 10
    dec 30

2003
    jan 19
    feb 04 14 27
    mar 10 23 31
    apr 11 15
    may 26
    jun 16 29
    aug 17
    sep 15
    oct 08
    nov 30
    dec 11 24 28

2004
    jan 06 23 30
    feb 01 21
    mar 04 09
    apr 15
    may 02 10
    jul 03
    aug 02 16 30
    oct 04 17
    nov 28
    dec 28

2005
    jan 03 24
    mar 24
    may 28
    aug 01 10
    sep 03
    oct 12 28
    dec 25

2006
    jan 01 07 16
    feb 02 13 28
    mar 12 13
    apr 17

other things to look at

back home