Moving a home takes a lot of work. It quickly becomes obvious that most of the work is self-inflicted. Baggage is ported from one place to another to another when there is really very little use for it. Stuff fills the nooks and crannies of my home and I didn't realize quite how much of it there was until I had to haul it somewhere else.
When I got to looking through it, I realized that most of it was work I did once, a long time ago, and given the constraints of the modern life-style, I would be hard-pressed to find any time to ever look at it again. Even though I learned a lot. Again.
One thing I learned is that Art takes time. In this world of ours where we are (increasingly) fond of science and logic, it is hard to find a time and place for art. When I was in high school, I did more than when I was in college; I was more artistic as an underclassman than as an upperclassman; I did more in school than I do now out in the "real world" (bloody awful term if you ask me...)
Now I do hardly any. Every time I try to find time for art, I fail to notice what I didn't do instead. And then I feel like I'm not getting anything 'worthwhile' accomplished. Which is truly sad.
However, nearly all of my 'art' is utter crap. I was a very angry child growing up. I visualized a lot of violence. Perhaps, if I lived in California, I would have become a Peter Jackson-esque director - except I'm not really a director personality. If, as an adult, I came across a child creating this kind of art, I would be very worried and probably turn it in to a licensed psychologist and maybe even the police after having a few words with their parents. Some of it is pretty scary shit. I never listed names of real people, it is all devoted fiction, but it is rather bloody. And the further back I go, the bloodier it became (when I was ten, I wrote about decapitation).
Hm. I was a horrible person.
And now all of that tainted work is in the recycle bin. It is time to move on into the future. Stop lamenting if I can (which I can't) how little I write in the real world. Stop looking at these stacks and stacks of paper which could go to better use as a post-consumer recycled product than just taking up valuable real-estate in my home. I feel better now that I have less stuff. I'm not pulling such a heavy burden of crap I keep meaning to go back to, but never will.
I know that I am not alone in this tenancy to hoard. Most of us, in America, (at least those of us with walls and roofs) have a little hoarder in our blood. It may not be as damaging to our lives as it is for those poor people we exploit on our evil glowing boxes, but it is there and it is damaging all the same. The scale is simply different. Whilst I rummaged though my trash, I had a lot (a very lot) of time to reflect on the astounding quantity of trash we generate because we record and keep. It's kind of a sad thing. How much of this stuff in our homes do we really use? Perhaps a little more than what we need, but a small fraction of what we have.
Just a thing to think about. I lament the lack of a great recycling system to get all this Stuff to the understuffed. People who really do Need more. Though there are a few systems. Luckily for me, I don't have a lot that people can actually use... it's all just bloody paper. The recycling is simpler that way.
I don't want this little thought to be a call to arms for throwing away all the excess shit that lies in y'alls houses. Because, if we're gonna have landfills they might as well be our homes. But if it does inspire you (somehow...), please remember to reduce first, reuse second, regift third, and recycle fourth. Try never to throw away.
When I got to looking through it, I realized that most of it was work I did once, a long time ago, and given the constraints of the modern life-style, I would be hard-pressed to find any time to ever look at it again. Even though I learned a lot. Again.
One thing I learned is that Art takes time. In this world of ours where we are (increasingly) fond of science and logic, it is hard to find a time and place for art. When I was in high school, I did more than when I was in college; I was more artistic as an underclassman than as an upperclassman; I did more in school than I do now out in the "real world" (bloody awful term if you ask me...)
Now I do hardly any. Every time I try to find time for art, I fail to notice what I didn't do instead. And then I feel like I'm not getting anything 'worthwhile' accomplished. Which is truly sad.
However, nearly all of my 'art' is utter crap. I was a very angry child growing up. I visualized a lot of violence. Perhaps, if I lived in California, I would have become a Peter Jackson-esque director - except I'm not really a director personality. If, as an adult, I came across a child creating this kind of art, I would be very worried and probably turn it in to a licensed psychologist and maybe even the police after having a few words with their parents. Some of it is pretty scary shit. I never listed names of real people, it is all devoted fiction, but it is rather bloody. And the further back I go, the bloodier it became (when I was ten, I wrote about decapitation).
Hm. I was a horrible person.
And now all of that tainted work is in the recycle bin. It is time to move on into the future. Stop lamenting if I can (which I can't) how little I write in the real world. Stop looking at these stacks and stacks of paper which could go to better use as a post-consumer recycled product than just taking up valuable real-estate in my home. I feel better now that I have less stuff. I'm not pulling such a heavy burden of crap I keep meaning to go back to, but never will.
I know that I am not alone in this tenancy to hoard. Most of us, in America, (at least those of us with walls and roofs) have a little hoarder in our blood. It may not be as damaging to our lives as it is for those poor people we exploit on our evil glowing boxes, but it is there and it is damaging all the same. The scale is simply different. Whilst I rummaged though my trash, I had a lot (a very lot) of time to reflect on the astounding quantity of trash we generate because we record and keep. It's kind of a sad thing. How much of this stuff in our homes do we really use? Perhaps a little more than what we need, but a small fraction of what we have.
Just a thing to think about. I lament the lack of a great recycling system to get all this Stuff to the understuffed. People who really do Need more. Though there are a few systems. Luckily for me, I don't have a lot that people can actually use... it's all just bloody paper. The recycling is simpler that way.
I don't want this little thought to be a call to arms for throwing away all the excess shit that lies in y'alls houses. Because, if we're gonna have landfills they might as well be our homes. But if it does inspire you (somehow...), please remember to reduce first, reuse second, regift third, and recycle fourth. Try never to throw away.
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