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fearlesstempI give up. The mess wins.
See, one of the problems of being a twenty-something living with one's parents, besides the whole feeling lame about it thing, is that it's kind of hard to stuff twenty-odd years of stuff into a 10x10 foot room. Or, at least, it is for me, because I cannot throw out/get rid of:
-books,
-videotapes,
-anything that was a gift, or
-any kind of card/letter/note
Which is pretty much everything in my room! And so I end up making a few passes around my room with a cheap green garbage bag (this one already has a hole in it! I don't know how, but it does!), trying to get myself to throw stuff away and failing miserably. Because! I *need* that scrap of yellow legal pad paper with my ESL tutee's e-mail address on it! I mean, sure, I haven't talked to the woman since our last tutoring session when I was in college, when I tried to hug her and scared the daylights of her, but someday I may find myself in China and need a friend! Or maybe I'll just want to say hi! And come on, I can't get rid of that other scrap of paper with Michael Rabinowitz's name, phone number, and e-mail address! Even though I have no idea who Michael Rabinowitz is. Someday I may remember and want to e-mail Mike and not have the contact information! That would be a tragedy.
This hoarding of pointless stuff is clearly due to several things, including:
-my inherent laziness,
-my father's bad example,
-my huge sentimental streak, and
-one of the Mikes I went to Europe with.
When I was sixteen, I spent three weeks in Great Britain as part of this student ambassador trip thing. It was very fun and educational and all that good stuff, and on the trip there were three Mikes -- one who was short and funny and younger than me, another who I can't remember well, and the third, who was quiet and kind of geeky but nice (none of whom are Michael Rabinowitz, that I know). Anyway, after we came home and went our separate ways (the people who went on the trip were from two areas of New York State -- both my area, and another area a few hours away), some of the more energetic of the group attempted to keep in touch by sending these generic form letters to everyone, or cards with little generic notes. Late in the year, I received a letter that was, like, two pages of looseleaf, hand-written, from quiet and kind of geeky but nice Mike. TWO PAGES! HANDWRITTEN!
And I told myself he must have done that for all of the people on the trip (all thirty of us!), that he couldn't have possibly sent one just to ME, because I was, well, ME, and why would a boy want to send ME a special letter?
I put it away and looked at it every so often but just accepted that explanation, and then I moved, and life went on until, for whatever reason, I found myself lying in bed one night thinking about my trip to England and I REALIZED -- quiet and kind of geeky but nice Mike HAD PROBABLY LIKED ME! And I totally blew him off!! And I probably hurt his feelings! Because I was too insecure to even CONSIDER that a boy could have liked me and so I never ANSWERED, and this CLUELESSNESS-BORNE CRUELTY was totally why my love life has always been so uneventful! It was KARMA, not my history of bad hair!
I jumped out of bed and spent the rest of the night tearing my room apart, and all of my boxes in the basement, looking for the letter (because I couldn't remember anything about it, and suddenly needed to read it over with this possibility in mind), but could not find it, and realized I must have thrown it out when we moved, either accidentally or on purpose, and oh, still I'm upset over this. Still!
This is why I can never throw anything out, ever again!
Anyway. The problem with this method is that my room becomes creepily messy, between the scraps of paper everywhere and my complex clothes storage method, which involves lots of piles of stuff ending up on my bed and dresser. Reading this, you could assume that I'm just too lazy to organize stuff and put it in its proper place in the closet or the dresser and, well, you'd be right.
I sometimes wonder how much damage Mary Poppins has done to the messy among us because still, some part of me wishes -- and even kind of believes, if I want it enough -- that if I sing the right jaunty tune, my stuff will magically organize itself with no actual moving or effort from me at all. It could happen! Right?
To quote the Mets Fan Motto: You Gotta Believe.
I meant to write up stuff about Christmas, and this Kennedy miniseries I was absorbed in this afternoon (why am I so obsessed with the Kennedys? Why? Why can't I get over this?), but I'm starting to consider buying infomercial products advertised on the TV I've left running while I write this, which means it's time for me to go to bed.
See, one of the problems of being a twenty-something living with one's parents, besides the whole feeling lame about it thing, is that it's kind of hard to stuff twenty-odd years of stuff into a 10x10 foot room. Or, at least, it is for me, because I cannot throw out/get rid of:
-books,
-videotapes,
-anything that was a gift, or
-any kind of card/letter/note
Which is pretty much everything in my room! And so I end up making a few passes around my room with a cheap green garbage bag (this one already has a hole in it! I don't know how, but it does!), trying to get myself to throw stuff away and failing miserably. Because! I *need* that scrap of yellow legal pad paper with my ESL tutee's e-mail address on it! I mean, sure, I haven't talked to the woman since our last tutoring session when I was in college, when I tried to hug her and scared the daylights of her, but someday I may find myself in China and need a friend! Or maybe I'll just want to say hi! And come on, I can't get rid of that other scrap of paper with Michael Rabinowitz's name, phone number, and e-mail address! Even though I have no idea who Michael Rabinowitz is. Someday I may remember and want to e-mail Mike and not have the contact information! That would be a tragedy.
This hoarding of pointless stuff is clearly due to several things, including:
-my inherent laziness,
-my father's bad example,
-my huge sentimental streak, and
-one of the Mikes I went to Europe with.
When I was sixteen, I spent three weeks in Great Britain as part of this student ambassador trip thing. It was very fun and educational and all that good stuff, and on the trip there were three Mikes -- one who was short and funny and younger than me, another who I can't remember well, and the third, who was quiet and kind of geeky but nice (none of whom are Michael Rabinowitz, that I know). Anyway, after we came home and went our separate ways (the people who went on the trip were from two areas of New York State -- both my area, and another area a few hours away), some of the more energetic of the group attempted to keep in touch by sending these generic form letters to everyone, or cards with little generic notes. Late in the year, I received a letter that was, like, two pages of looseleaf, hand-written, from quiet and kind of geeky but nice Mike. TWO PAGES! HANDWRITTEN!
And I told myself he must have done that for all of the people on the trip (all thirty of us!), that he couldn't have possibly sent one just to ME, because I was, well, ME, and why would a boy want to send ME a special letter?
I put it away and looked at it every so often but just accepted that explanation, and then I moved, and life went on until, for whatever reason, I found myself lying in bed one night thinking about my trip to England and I REALIZED -- quiet and kind of geeky but nice Mike HAD PROBABLY LIKED ME! And I totally blew him off!! And I probably hurt his feelings! Because I was too insecure to even CONSIDER that a boy could have liked me and so I never ANSWERED, and this CLUELESSNESS-BORNE CRUELTY was totally why my love life has always been so uneventful! It was KARMA, not my history of bad hair!
I jumped out of bed and spent the rest of the night tearing my room apart, and all of my boxes in the basement, looking for the letter (because I couldn't remember anything about it, and suddenly needed to read it over with this possibility in mind), but could not find it, and realized I must have thrown it out when we moved, either accidentally or on purpose, and oh, still I'm upset over this. Still!
This is why I can never throw anything out, ever again!
Anyway. The problem with this method is that my room becomes creepily messy, between the scraps of paper everywhere and my complex clothes storage method, which involves lots of piles of stuff ending up on my bed and dresser. Reading this, you could assume that I'm just too lazy to organize stuff and put it in its proper place in the closet or the dresser and, well, you'd be right.
I sometimes wonder how much damage Mary Poppins has done to the messy among us because still, some part of me wishes -- and even kind of believes, if I want it enough -- that if I sing the right jaunty tune, my stuff will magically organize itself with no actual moving or effort from me at all. It could happen! Right?
To quote the Mets Fan Motto: You Gotta Believe.
I meant to write up stuff about Christmas, and this Kennedy miniseries I was absorbed in this afternoon (why am I so obsessed with the Kennedys? Why? Why can't I get over this?), but I'm starting to consider buying infomercial products advertised on the TV I've left running while I write this, which means it's time for me to go to bed.
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 03:04 am (UTC)Good luck!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 11:21 pm (UTC)Thanks for the support!
no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 12:25 pm (UTC)Oh, and last night, when you and Jo were saying, why waste your time with someone sub-par, and I said, "Oh yeah, that's what I thought, too, totally the way to go"... what was I talking about? I totally wasted LOADS of time on Idiot Boys, just not in an actual relationship, which is actually worse. I am so delusional.
Sorry, off topic, but had to let you know I realized it.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 11:25 pm (UTC)That's RIGHT, it WAS that Mike!!
Have more to say but brother needs computer so suffice it to say: If I had 20/20 hindsight on all of my past activities/feelings/obsessions, I'd probably die, so everyone's allowed a few transgressions among friends. In fact, lots, and to be honest, the above didn't occur to me until you posted this. Am so on top of things!