To the casual observer, one might call my minimalistic living environment pristine. What lurks behind closed doors, however, tells a very different story—one that I sincerely hope does not reflect a mirror image of the content of my mind.
Whenever I am struck by inspiration and courage to bravely venture into a closet or peek into the innards of my computer to clean something out, I am struck dumb by what I face. Be it old writing or old clothing, the fire of my determination fades quickly into a sad little heap of dying embers and is quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness at the prospect of trying to make sense out of anything.
The possibilities are endless and stretch the limits of my decision-making ability to infinity and beyond. To publish or delete? To save or not save? To sell or give away? Will I ever wear it again? Have I worn it in a year? Does it need altering or editing? Will anyone want to read it? Is it any good? Do I like it? Would anyone else like it? Is it worth anything? Does it make any sense? Does it have any holes in it? Well, you get the gist . . .
In a recent fit of “Let’s get organized” I courageously dug into some files from yesteryear, and yet again, I collapsed into a fit of overwhelm at my total and complete, utter lack of organization. Stuff is spread hither, thither, and yon with little, if any hope of ever being brought together in one miniscule space of coherence and/or organization. If ever I have a hope of getting my act together, I’ll need at least another dozen lifetimes or so.
But I do want to start somewhere (wherever that is) so I tiptoed into my computer closet and gingerly emerged with a piece of writing from 2007, and again am bombarded with the questions. What should I do with it? Delete? Publish? Save for later? Well, maybe that’s not the best option—it has already been saved for twelve years. Maybe the decision is just about making a decision.
Well, over a decade later, I’ve finally settled on a solution (some of us are a little slow you know). The decision is—ta dah—pluck one thing at a time out of the closet, and do something with it.
Turn it into a blog. Compile it into a book. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Just DO it. Maybe someday it will start to make sense, but at least for now, one step forward–even if it’s wrong–is better than no step at all. Just one little tidbit dragged out of the dark and into the light, lightens and brightens my world because that’s one less bit of clutter to deal with tomorrow.
So what’s it gonna be? Today it’s going to be a blog until maybe some day in the future I can figure out how to get organized enough to turn it into a book. The first chapter might be all about clutter. I’m an expert, after all. Meanwhile, till I get my act together, it’s one day and one piece at a time. Maybe tomorrow or the next day that bit from 2007 will see the light of day. Wish it luck. And me too.
Onward and upward! Out of the dark and into the light!
9 thoughts on “My Computer My Self”
That first step is always the hardest!!! Moving helped us get rid of a ton! Many I loved for a variety of reasons but they had just passed their usefulness for me!!! Great post!
Thanks Shannon! So many first steps!!
Hi Julia, You are so right on but I’m afraid it is all going to get left to my children. As the years grow short I can’t bring myself to spend time on all the clutter around me. I know it is cruel of me but there it is. Love,Vivian
How well I know! God bless the children – they’re going to need it, right? 🙂
My dilemma, EXACTLY!!
GLAD you are blogging again, dear Aunt Julia!!! Don’t we all wrestle with VASTLY TOO MUCH STUFF???!!!! You keep company with all of us! Love you, Connie
It only took six months, but I’m back—at least for now! 🙂 So now back to the closets. And the computer stash! Love you too!
I think this is representative of all of us over 50. I think the reward of getting organized is the feeling you get afterwards. Good job.
In my case it’s representative of being over the age of 2, except I didn’t have a computer then.