LJ Idol Week Zero: Intro
One of my goals this weekend was to "Marie Kondo" my clothes. For those who may not know who she is, Marie Kondo is a tiny Japanese woman who became famous for her book (and later tv show) about clearing the clutter - specifically, divesting yourself of anything that doesn't "spark joy."
"How the fuck am I supposed to fucking know if something fucking sparks fucking joy or not??" I yelled down the hall to my husband, as I stared into my closet at dozens of items of clothing I "liked" but never wore.
Maybe I wasn't in quite the ideal state of mind for this particular exercise? But it was on my to-do list for the weekend and by god I was going to fucking do it.
The task was made slightly easier by the fact that I hadn't done laundry in two weeks. I'd washed everything I owned in preparation for Dragoncon, packed my favorite, most comfortable, most ME clothes, then come back and thrown them all in the hamper (where they remained). Since then I'd worn what was left that was either, A. ideal for lying around the house/working from home, where no one would see me and comfort was paramount, or B. work-appropriate.
Also, anything that didn't fit had to go. For the past thirty-ish years I've had storage boxes and corners of the closet reserved for "maybe it will fit next year" clothes. Have any of them ever actually motivated me to lose weight and wear them again? Fuck no. Every year the collection grew - as did I - and at this point I might own more clothes that don't fit than do. It's time to end the madness. If I actually lose some fucking weight (which I'm TRYING TO, dammit) I'll damn well deserve to buy some new goddamn clothes. So out they go. BOOM. Done. Bye Felicia!
An hour later my closet had more empty hangers than full, the bottom drawer of my dresser was completely empty, I'd kept six T-shirts, three tank tops, and one colorful paisley "work-appropriate" top, and more than half my socks were in the trashcan. As soon as I got the top of the black plastic trash bag tied shut by sitting on it to squeeze out as much air as possible, the cat began chewing holes in it.
"Honey, are you wearing pants?" I yelled.
"What?"
"Are you wearing pants? I'm not, everything is either the laundry or in this donation bag, and Betty's chewing the bag so it has to go out to the car asap." (I knew he had pants on - we're not a pants-free sort of family, but I didn't know how else to explain why I couldn't do it myself.)
(Now I know he really loves me - he interrupted World of Warcraft Classic to put the bag of clothes in the trunk of his car.)
So that was done. Except for everything that wasn't - two big tupperwares in the closet and the boxes in the cubbyholes of my Ikea cube shelf thing. But those would wait until I was switching out summer clothes for winter (and this being North Carolina, that could be a while...)
Which brings me to the purple dress.
There's a dress in my office closet that I'm never getting rid of. It doesn't fit, hasn't fit in at least 15 years, and is damned unlikely to ever fit again. Even if it did, I suspect it would look bizarre on the middle-aged lady I am now, as compared to the cute thirty-ish I was when I bought it.
But I can't let it go.
It's a deep violet with a white flowered pattern, a square neckline, short skirt, and corsetlike lacing up the front. Someone I was embroiled in an ongoing, simmering flirtation with once referred to it - and me by association - as "almost too sexy."
It was the first and only time anyone had ever used that word in relation to me.
So I keep the dress that will never fit again, hanging in the back of a closet I rarely open, because it makes my heart happy to know it exists. And that the me who wore it used to.
This week I realized I feel much the same way about LJ Idol. I'm a lot busier than I was during seasons 5 through 8. The game doesn't really fit into my life anymore (my husband called himself an "Idol widow" during the seasons when I played, because it ate up so much of my time). I don't even think of myself as a writer anymore - I haven't written anything original since...well, since season 9 of Idol, which I "byed" out of only six weeks in.
But I can't let it go.
Idol calls to me. It feels like home, feels like Tribe, feels like something that will always be a part of why and how I am who I am. Idol changed me and my world for the better. It introduced me to people who will be part of my life forever. It led me to create a business that helped me buy my first house and will enable me to work from anywhere and follow my dreams after I retire from my nine-to-five. And that makes me hang on to the game even as I shake my head and remind myself what always happens when I try to do too much...
But what the hell-we're supposed to keep the things that "spark joy," right?