Closets and Old Pictures
My bedroom closet has, for some time, needed a good cleaning out. Like many closets, it ended up being a place where things were shoved, with the notion that they would be dealt with later. However, as I am sure many of you understand, later never comes. As such, the closet has become steadily more and more jammed full of stuff.
Worse than this is the fact that this closet feels haunted to me. I can't sleep with the closet door open. As I've mentioned in previous posts, there is something wrong in that corner of the room - something that is not particularly keen on me living. So, I've known for a while that the closet has needed another sort of cleaning. Unfortunately, I've dealt with that about as well as I have the physical cleaning.
Tonight, in order to force myself forward on the closet cleaning, I pulled everything out of there that was on the floor, and out into the open in my room. That closet held a lot, a surprising amount for its apparent size. Now my room looks like something exploded in here. I have a party coming up in a few weeks. My hope is to get rid of all the closet junk before then and to only put stuff back in there that should be in my closet. That is: stuff that I am keeping there because I periodically use it with a frequency that making it readily available is important.
In going through the closet, I ran into some various old frames containing picture sets therein. 2 of them were put together by 2 different previous girl friends. 1 of those sets has pictures of me all the way back to college. The other is more recent. Looking at these pics, all of which are 5 years or more old at this point in time, they evoke both the feelings of the moments of the pictures, and the sadness of lost things. They remind me of pictures of ruins. You can see something that was once beautiful in ruins, but it also shows you how things move on, how things pass, and wear away, eventually becoming only dust. Even the old pics of just me, I can see the remains of who I once was. The person in those pictures doesn't really exist anymore. There are some signs of him - this and that which remind me that he once existed, that tell of his story. Mostly though, that me is gone.
Anyway, next, I'll get rid of these old remains, and clear the place for some future me, who will hopefully appreciate it and think fondly of the me of his past.
Worse than this is the fact that this closet feels haunted to me. I can't sleep with the closet door open. As I've mentioned in previous posts, there is something wrong in that corner of the room - something that is not particularly keen on me living. So, I've known for a while that the closet has needed another sort of cleaning. Unfortunately, I've dealt with that about as well as I have the physical cleaning.
Tonight, in order to force myself forward on the closet cleaning, I pulled everything out of there that was on the floor, and out into the open in my room. That closet held a lot, a surprising amount for its apparent size. Now my room looks like something exploded in here. I have a party coming up in a few weeks. My hope is to get rid of all the closet junk before then and to only put stuff back in there that should be in my closet. That is: stuff that I am keeping there because I periodically use it with a frequency that making it readily available is important.
In going through the closet, I ran into some various old frames containing picture sets therein. 2 of them were put together by 2 different previous girl friends. 1 of those sets has pictures of me all the way back to college. The other is more recent. Looking at these pics, all of which are 5 years or more old at this point in time, they evoke both the feelings of the moments of the pictures, and the sadness of lost things. They remind me of pictures of ruins. You can see something that was once beautiful in ruins, but it also shows you how things move on, how things pass, and wear away, eventually becoming only dust. Even the old pics of just me, I can see the remains of who I once was. The person in those pictures doesn't really exist anymore. There are some signs of him - this and that which remind me that he once existed, that tell of his story. Mostly though, that me is gone.
Anyway, next, I'll get rid of these old remains, and clear the place for some future me, who will hopefully appreciate it and think fondly of the me of his past.