for the past two days, i've been cleaning, sorting, and discarding things from my home... and i'm still nowhere near being finished. after quitting my day-job, i started really thinking about what kind of life i'm trying to build and i took a good, hard, honest look at myself and decided it was high time to take charge of my surroundings in a more personal, meaningful way.
there is definitely more than a small amount of truth to the cliche that the things you own begin owning you after awhile. there's no way around that fact. and it isn't necessarily something to feel bad about until you apply that truth to specifics. i have absolutely no problem with living a life ruled by books and art or even my collection of broken porcelain dolls, but i've got a big problem with letting my life be ruled by junk: the accumulation of rough years, tough times, and broken hearts...
until two days ago, my bookcase was overrun by more than just my massive collection of books. it was the home/storage unit for old nic-naks that i've been carrying around with me since i was 15 years old. i looked at them all, one by one, and realized that the majority of them were only with me because i didn't question their belonging with me. in other words, these things are with me because i didn't ask myself "do i even like this object anymore?", and overwhelmingly, when i did ask myself this question, the answer was a firm, unapologetic, cold NO. soon, the bookcase had been cleared of all my past baggage and i found myself weeding through my closet, tossing clothes all around the bedroom. i pulled out sweaters and dresses that i haven't actually worn in at least two years, holding on to them only because i think they're cool and that maybe i'll wear them again someday. this attitude needed to be scrapped along with the clutter.
soon, this project of weeding through became about much more than just creating space in my home, it became about an unpacking and unloading of the past. it became about finding my real self amid the chaos, clearing out the damage and trauma, and letting myself really become the new girl i need to be... the person i've become but can't see through all the objects and clutter and baggage. i am cleaning house in more ways than one and it feels wonderful. it feels amazing actually. getting to the point where i can let go of objects, realizing that they can have a better home elsewhere, or simply that i am no longer in need of whatever romantic, nostalgic fascination that brought the item in to my life is very freeing.
having grown up poor, it's always been very hard for me to get rid of things but the time has come to get over it, get over the past and move forward. the time has come to make choices based in ethics (like quitting the job) so that my outer life more closely resembles my inner life. i am matching things up and getting rid of the things that bog me down.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.
my artist website is here.
my artist website is here.