Friday, September 19, 2014

The insatiable desire for order from chaos

Insatiable, yes, that’s the word. I have been infused with the insatiable need to purge my house—every corner, every closet, everything. If you know me, you know that I have become more streamlined over the years. I no longer yearn for heavily decorated knickknacks lining every shelf in a whimsical fashion. I want spare. I want clean. I want minimal. When I was newly married, I was out buying all sorts of things from thrift stores that we needed. Garage sales, clearance racks—if it was on sale and we needed it my house enveloped it. I think envelop is the right word because when I go through things now, I don’t remember buying half the stuff I find. I’ve purged a lot over the years at our garage sales and by selling online, so my home is nothing like it was then. But, something has taken over me and it wants to clean it, all of it.

I’m thinking it has something to do with the empty house. For nearly 24 years there were children running amok in the home so we always were careful what we had sitting around. Now that they’re gone, I think Missy’s sense of style and spatial reasoning is coming back. I’ve got projects in my head that are popping out. I’ve already cleaned the kitchen cupboards and thrown everything out of the pantry. Folks, you do not want to know what was in the back of that thing. I have cranberry-dark chocolate trail mix that I now nibble on, and black corn tortilla chips that we dip in hot salsa. It is filled with things that our palates crave, and everything is arranged with clean lines and non-sticky surfaces. I cleaned out my coffee nook and threw away a myriad of containers. It is now spare and pleasurable. My bedside stands and shelf have been cleared of books I don’t need, as have my library shelves. I have a laundry basket full of books that I need to take somewhere to sell or trade, and I have my eye on more as my shelves groan a little less heavily now. I am planning on clearing all the shelves of my library and painting the insides a bright color, then arranging my books in an artful way. 

I’ve already cleaned out some of the boy’s stuff in his room he no longer needs and posted it online. The girl had her pile ready to go as she kept her room fairly spotless. I have a few things left from our eldest, but it’s bits and pieces of her life that no longer have meaning to her—except for the fuzzy pants she keeps here to wear when she comes home for Christmas. Those are neatly folded on her closet shelf. Three heaping closets, made when we created the dormers upstairs after the fire, have somehow become dens of iniquity and they are next on my radar. My fingers are itching to sort through the rubble and see what I find to sell or get rid of. This new phase of actually wanting to sift and sort is a tantalizing surprise to me. It was never something I enjoyed doing, but now I feel it’s just the shifting of the years and the wanting for things to be in order. It’s putting your life into a semblance of things that are within your control and tangible to your touch. With each piece I am gaining peace and making my world spare and clean so I can go out and do more with my life. I can’t feel as if the home is in tatters as I’m making a new way in a child-less world. I press onward, garbage bag in one hand and steely mentality in the other. With each item thrown away or sold my heart gets a bit lighter.

You can find this and my other columns on The Holmes County Bargain Hunter.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Casting out demons and finding your spark

I've been silent. I've been pensive. I've been letting the dark shadows curb my writing. Silent demons, stop your scratching at my neck. I'm tired of you and the way you make me feel.

It's a salient process, this thing called writing. My focus, when I left my desk job to set up a nook here at home, was to find time to start the novel inside me. For so long I've let those demons tell me I can't write it.

"You will never finish it."
"You can't even start it."
"Just do it tomorrow."

Adjusting to the warm niche of home, along with the added benefits of coffee and food on hand, has taken some time to get used to. I have found love for home, kept inside, that now flows out of me. I am doing what I'm meant to. I'm sharing a passion and spreading it around, though thin in spots, that is ever progressing and changing with each day.

Losing inspiration sucks.
I feel as if I've lost a spark and can't find it.

Yesterday I got a text from my niece McKenzie. She's always told me how much she loves to read what I write be it my newspaper column or a blog piece. She says she can get lost in my writing and I always just smiled and said, "I'm glad you love them" never really realizing how much she meant it.

She started a blog. Because she was inspired. You can find her at Just Your Average 20 Year Old's Blog.

This has quite blown me away not just because she started a blog, but because she felt like she was never good enough at writing to start one. But she said "screw it" and created one. And she wrote. I believe she has lit the spark inside me once again. Sometimes we just need to say "screw it" and start doing the impossible.

In listening to those demons speak we give them life. We give them power. We make them bigger and scarier than they really are. Really, we just need to tell them to go back to hell where they came from. Slip your bad selves back into the pit because I don't need to listen anymore. Sincerely.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Throw-away blog.

I wrote a blog and couldn't publish it. My thoughts are too raw, too charged and full of gristle. Someday soon I might, but today isn't that day.