About cleaning my dining table
Aug. 8th, 2005 12:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pseydtonneI spent over two hours cleaning my dining table this evening. It has been in about the same state of clutter for several months. I cannot report that I finished cleaning nor that I stopped by 10:30, which was my plan. I did make enough progress that I have two-thirds of the surface usable and was able to put the LCD monitor on it (leaving me with half of its surface usable). I sorted enough objects into leftover boxes and into the pull-out wire rack shelving that I can now find a lot of things easily. I shoved fistsful of old receipts into a box that had once contained a wireless network card. I found my "now bear is driving" sticker which I had only bought a month ago but had lost. I also found some contact information I'd been dying to use.
You may say "wait, why not throw out the damn receipts?" You may even say "sheesh, it's a smooth marble table -- slide everything into a bucket and be done." You have to understand that I fight my inner demons every time I clean. I come from a lineage of clutter monsters, pack rats, scavengers and hoarders. Throwing something away that isn't a banana peel or a tissue involves shutting up the part of my brain that wants to keep everything. You know, in case World War Three comes, I'm all that's left and I need to start the new empire. I am ready to be the Computer History Library at Melrose in the tradition of the Library at Alexandria.
Doesn't it sound wicked silly? It should. I still find these thoughts to be at the root of my clutter. I cannot part with anything unless I make a conscious effort to part with it.
This week it was a year ago that I had to send Maggie home. I had to part with someone I considered the dearest possession I would ever have. I had to give up a lot of things because I could no longer keep sane in the face of her needs. I gave up being married before I turned 30, something I was hung up on. I gave up a person that understood, accepted and needed me. I gave it all up because I was losing myself trying to keep her.
I got two pieces of news tonight. One is that another of my friends is pregnant. I realize this should be a happy occasion but it made me sad. I feel like an ass as I admit why I was sad but I must admit it: I realized I was not in a relationship where I could be a father anytime soon. I was in one of those couples everyone thought of as a single unit and I had to end it. All I have left is a messy apartment, a couple fish and the nagging thought that I fuqt it up.
Intellectually, I know I had to do what I did. I know that when I clean, I am reclaiming a new sense of self-worth in the face of my heritage of squirreling. I am trying my dangedest to evolve and make a fresh self. I also know that I have grown a lot in the last year, cocooning and building a saner self. I have learned many skills and feel more in tune with what I want to be doing with my life. I am grateful, even if it means I am not going on the same journey as some of my close friends.
The other news was that Peter Jennings is dead at the age of 67. Many of you could give a rat's ass about this, but I grew up watching the guy. I was born around 6:30 pm, which is national news time. My dad got me addicted to ABC Nightly News with Frank Reynolds when I was a kid. When Reynolds died of "pneumonia", Jennings took over the anchor chair. The obituary at ABC's web site has details I never knew: that he hosted the nightly news from 1965 to 1967 then decided to open the Beirut bureau, that he was 67 (he never looked older than 50; when I was a kid, I assumed he was far younger than my dad), and that he was actually a cyborg sent by the Canadian government to hypnotize the American public but he was irrevocably reprogrammed by our higher quality of cigarettes.
Okay, I am feeling better. I did not want to go to sleep bummed out. I feel like I have a clear mind for moving into the future and a mostly clear table for working on some computer projects.
-look at all those screws sorted into bins, Dante
You may say "wait, why not throw out the damn receipts?" You may even say "sheesh, it's a smooth marble table -- slide everything into a bucket and be done." You have to understand that I fight my inner demons every time I clean. I come from a lineage of clutter monsters, pack rats, scavengers and hoarders. Throwing something away that isn't a banana peel or a tissue involves shutting up the part of my brain that wants to keep everything. You know, in case World War Three comes, I'm all that's left and I need to start the new empire. I am ready to be the Computer History Library at Melrose in the tradition of the Library at Alexandria.
Doesn't it sound wicked silly? It should. I still find these thoughts to be at the root of my clutter. I cannot part with anything unless I make a conscious effort to part with it.
This week it was a year ago that I had to send Maggie home. I had to part with someone I considered the dearest possession I would ever have. I had to give up a lot of things because I could no longer keep sane in the face of her needs. I gave up being married before I turned 30, something I was hung up on. I gave up a person that understood, accepted and needed me. I gave it all up because I was losing myself trying to keep her.
I got two pieces of news tonight. One is that another of my friends is pregnant. I realize this should be a happy occasion but it made me sad. I feel like an ass as I admit why I was sad but I must admit it: I realized I was not in a relationship where I could be a father anytime soon. I was in one of those couples everyone thought of as a single unit and I had to end it. All I have left is a messy apartment, a couple fish and the nagging thought that I fuqt it up.
Intellectually, I know I had to do what I did. I know that when I clean, I am reclaiming a new sense of self-worth in the face of my heritage of squirreling. I am trying my dangedest to evolve and make a fresh self. I also know that I have grown a lot in the last year, cocooning and building a saner self. I have learned many skills and feel more in tune with what I want to be doing with my life. I am grateful, even if it means I am not going on the same journey as some of my close friends.
The other news was that Peter Jennings is dead at the age of 67. Many of you could give a rat's ass about this, but I grew up watching the guy. I was born around 6:30 pm, which is national news time. My dad got me addicted to ABC Nightly News with Frank Reynolds when I was a kid. When Reynolds died of "pneumonia", Jennings took over the anchor chair. The obituary at ABC's web site has details I never knew: that he hosted the nightly news from 1965 to 1967 then decided to open the Beirut bureau, that he was 67 (he never looked older than 50; when I was a kid, I assumed he was far younger than my dad), and that he was actually a cyborg sent by the Canadian government to hypnotize the American public but he was irrevocably reprogrammed by our higher quality of cigarettes.
Okay, I am feeling better. I did not want to go to sleep bummed out. I feel like I have a clear mind for moving into the future and a mostly clear table for working on some computer projects.
-look at all those screws sorted into bins, Dante
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 07:14 am (UTC)As far as I know you, which might not be all that deeply, it seems like you've done the right thing to keep yourself sane and hale.
(PS, my method of cleaning my desk? 1. Extend arm. 2. Sweep across desk surface. 3. Bemoan now-broken fragile things momentarily. 4. Enjoy new clean desk space.)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-09 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-08 12:18 pm (UTC)Lots of loose screws, but well organized? ... That's screwy. =)