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Getting Ready for 2014: One Method of Decluttering

Picture of a teapot shaped like a dead clown.
I have a photo of this fabulous object, a clown teapot with cups shaped like clown heads, each with xes for eyes, as though the principal clown had slain all his enemies and taken their severed heads in the process. Therefore it's okay I didn't buy it. Someone else gets all the joy.
We’ve (as in two humans, two cats, a briefly lived betta, and assorted temporary insects) lived in this space since 2001. While I’ve decluttered and cleaned before, cruft inevitably creeps in. An odd little ball colored red, white, and blue. Countless keys. Sharpies in a rainbow of colors. Twists and ties and clips. Twenty years after my D&D days, there’s still a few polyhedrals rolling around.

Many things have memories attached, and discarding the object sometimes feels like discarding the memory. The paperweight I bought in Prague while traveling to train Eastern Europeans about network security software. A tin butterfly from our time in Mexico when I was a child. The sequinned baby shoes I use as a prop in the flash class. I feel as though if I put them aside I may lose the thing that triggers the memory.

While I’m not ditching everything, a lot of these are getting digitized. I take a few pictures with my camera and stick it aside. Here’s an example of a book I’ve been carrying around since high days. My paternal grandmother got it for me when I expressed an interest in folk tales and folk songs. I drew on it heavily when writing songs for Armageddon, sometimes adapting songs outright, otherwise creating ones patterned after the originals.

It’s a hefty doorstop of a book. I suspect I’ll be able to find this knowledge, or comparable stuff, on the net whenever I need to. But at the same time, the object holds memories: sitting in my room in high school, reading through it, while the rain drummed on the roof and the locust tree outside my window tapped its long fingers on the glass, for one. Performing songs based on it as my bard on Armageddon, purple-haired, seemingly bemused but secretly sharp, Karaluvian Fale. I take more than just a photo of the dustjacket: one of the inside so I can see the font, another of an illustration, one of an enigmatic and very scrawly note. Enough that I’ll be able to evoke it, access those memories again if I want to.

What’s the best way to preserve these images? I haven’t gotten that far yet. For now I’m saving and tagging, and trying to shrink down the mass of physical stuff attached to my life.

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2 Responses

  1. That clown teapot is the most distressing thing I’ve ever seen 🙂
    I totally know what you mean about the memory triggers. I no longer put photos in photo albums because I need them out, in front of me, where I can see them, in order to remember. So I collage everything and hang them on the walls. Photo collages of trips, family members, etc. are what I hang on my walls instead of art work. It’s like an external memory drive for my life, I guess 🙂

  2. Oh, I understand, at least a bit. We’re decluttering here – it’s a relatively low-key slow process, but I think we’ve thrown out or donated 25 bags of STUFF and ten feet of shelf space. And I don’t know what we’ll do about paring down stuff that matters.

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Thanksgiving 2014

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Happy Thanksgiving to those of you to celebrate it; may the rest of you have a day also featuring pie.

I’m thankful for many things, and one of them is the past six months on the road with my splendid spouse, and all the adventures and laughs we had there. We put a lot of miles on the car. We kissed stingrays and fed hibiscus blossoms to three-toed sloths. We visited a lot of friends and family, and a number of roadside attractions. I’m very lucky to have had the luxury of that journey.

I’m thankful to have a home to return to, and to have all the things that so many lack: shelter, heat, food, clean water, access to health care, electricity, education. Grateful not to live in a war-torn country. And for all that I have beyond that, which is considerable.

I am, as always, thankful for my friends and family, both near and extended. For the chance to be part of a grand company of speculative fiction writers (including SFWA, which I am grateful for the chance to work with), some of whom have influenced me, others whom I hope I have influenced in some small way. I’m grateful for all the friends I don’t know yet, who I’ve chatted with online or tweeted at, but haven’t had the chance to meet yet face to face.

I am thankful for language and stories, and the gift I’ve been given in learning how to tell them. I’m grateful for new and wonderful stories, and re-reading others, finding them like long-lost friends. I’m grateful to be able to string words together in a pleasing fashion, and for the ability to appreciate it when others do it particularly nicely. I am grateful that I was able to write some good stories this year.

I’m grateful for this world and all its wonders, both of the heart and of the physical world. For the heroes and the volunteers and teachers and leaders and parents who keep the human race moving forward. I’m grateful for you, dear reader, and the fact that you take the time to read my words.

Goddess bless and godspeed. Have the happiest of holidays.

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