over the past few days, i've instigated a major domestic overhaul. sorting, purging on a moving-across-the-country-everything-must-go level. not that i am, but because i'm slowly being buried in my own clutter. the room's a mess, but there are clearly defined piles to go, be it for recycling, swaps or donation. if it's not used or loved, it's gone
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Adorable? Glad to know I'm not the only weirdo. :)
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There was my bear sitting on a shelf of 75% sale cast offs at some card store. And he just looked like I felt, have always felt. This spooky halloweenie dark shadow crammed in amongst the bright detritus of Valentines and Xmas themed things.
His name is Rasputin, and he is still never far from my bed.
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Being a hoopgirl, I can well imagine you'd be on the anti-clutter team.
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I too have been wracked with guilt at attempting to give away one thing or another and having to reconsider. It matters not what the object is or what it looks like -- it's our attachment to said object that matters.
the box of old sketchbooks under my bed was especially traumatic.
These things can take you by surprise, can't they? *hugs*
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Fortunately, my irrational attachments are limited to a small handful of trinkets. Most of it can go without hesitation. It all comes down to that classic question: If your house was on fire and all the living were safe, what would you rescue?
The sketchbooks... *hugs* Triggery, given how traumatic my last year at art school was, and how I spent two years in accounting trying to escape it. They've been tucked safely into the memento bin.
Last night's raging weepfest proves that it's time to get back to work. Enough excuses and wheelspinning.
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Oddly enough, I don't think I've even noticed yours; your heart leaks out when you smile. It's distracting. :)
Aw, this is one of the most sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. *sniff* Thank you. :)
Wow, I hadn't any idea OCAD was that awful for you in your last year. Accounting?? Dang, hon. That's fierce. (N's career choice notwithstanding... *grins*)
If your house was on fire and all the living were safe, what would you rescue?
The question I use is some variant of if the world were to end, what do I wish I could take with me?
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Having said that, did you hear how popular she was when you mentioned getting rid of her? I was going to say that she could find a happy home here, probably cuddled up with one of the fur-people, but it seems like I'm about 4th in line, so...
I know it's silly to anthropomorphize inanimate objects,<- whatchootalking'bout? It's NOT SILLY!! STUFFED TOYS HAVE EMOTIONS!!! THEY NEED LOVE TOO!!
And for what it's worth, my teeth are [cough] stained too, and have been since I was a teenager. I don't think it's all that noticeable though.
"Last night's raging weepfest proves that it's time to get back to work. Enough excuses and wheelspinning." <-- this sounds like it might have been the catalyst for something, yes? Sometimes weepfest are good things: a release of tension, a cleansing, a catharthis. None of which makes the experience itself any more pleasant.
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I'm only annoyed by my own speckly teeth when dentists see them as a means of extracting more money from me. Functionally, they're fine and still my own.
The previous evening was one in a handful of catalytic events leading to my current position of relative peace and rediscovered initiative. That particular episode wasn't much fun, but it did remove a sizable mental roadblock.
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