so Thursday i made attempts at fighting off my “potential-Hoarder” disease. if you followed my recent post Collector’s Anonymous, you know that i am something of a, errrr, hobbyist. i like to collect toys, books, and stupid things that you find in a large landfill. i have label stickers that i rescued from the trash bin and re-use for projects, empty cardboard boxes that used to hold rolls of tape that i will decorate and use to present homemade jewelry in, and a plethora of odds and ends that haven’t yet told me what they want to be when they grow up.
but Thursday i went to work: emptying boxes, tossing old notes, recycling long-forgotten-unused-VHS tapes, and working up a huge sweat. i was at it all day, scolding myself for holding on to things for so dreadfully long, and laughing at myself for thinking that some things would be useful, when they are so obviously broken dollar store rejects. i also praised myself for the excellent odd book collection i’m developing; we have tons of classics and interpretations on classics, as well as art books, film and TV books, and architecture goodies. worth keeping for sure.
by the end of the day i was fairly pooped. so on Friday i gave myself the day and evening to fart around at nothing. which led to the following fun, and therefore this blog.
my nieces showed me a website about a trillion years ago, when they were just little things with no boobies. it’s been in my favorites bar now for years after we played there, http://www.dressupgames.com/
i had no idea this site could actually take snapshots of me and my sister Bodhi (Tobie) but check these out!
this is EXACTLY what my sister Tobie looks like. well, her hair is a little more red and blonde…
and this is a pretty damn good likeness of me,
except that i’m juicier in the mid section and -umm-
yay for lazy computer days and dress up games!!!
i’m a “collector”. have been since i was a wee thing. my sister and i collect comic books, regular books, old books, ephemera, toys, vintage finds, quirky odds and ends and broken crap we think we can fix or turn into art. it’s a fun hobby, but as of yet a disorganized one. i’m hoping to get my “poop in a group” and get more organized and stream lined so i don’t end up like this:
this is a horader. he lives down by where i walk every day. i think he owns two houses that are full of boxes, cat litter, plastic tubs, old game boards, and lots of plastic sheeting. it smells like cat piss when you walk by, and i can’t begin to imagine what it smells like INSIDE.
plus there’s this issue:
where fat, juicy groundhogs crawl up into the guys attic and run around. i saw two of them piling in there one day, but didn’t have my camera on me. so yeah…time to start cleaning house before i have zoo critters moving in!!
i’m supposed to be working on my book today. for those of you who are frequent flyers here at accidental happiness airlines, you may recall that i am writing a book of memoirs. no? oh, well i did tell you, so you must have missed that blog. this was the weekend i intended to finish up the final editing; but life’s little lessons get in the way, and i see i must face some of my demons before i share them with the world.
Demon #1: Shyorcifel (also known as fear of intimacy)
i’ve been getting in touch with friends from my past, and i see that the vast majority of folk my age have spouses and children and homes. i began to scold myself today for not having a lover, and what is wrong with me, and all of that kind of thing. but i realized pretty quickly that the reason i am still single is that i never let anyone get close, and i never let men (or most of my friends for that matter) see the real me. it’s scary to think that you would hope in someone to love you on your worst day, with a big juicy zit on your nose, and no makeup on, walking around in yoga pants with holes in the ass, and then your supposed to trust that this person loves you when they’ve been around you at these times? when you’ve done something sinister or selfish? when you’ve told about your horrid past and how messed up you are? see, it’s easier to just never get to that level.
and that’s why i’m still single. so i have to wrestle with the intimacy demon and work out the kinks in my emotional vulnerability quotas.
Demon #2: Keeperoscipase (also known as Obssessive Hoarding)
ok, i’m not actually a hoarder. i lovingly refer to it as ‘being a Picker’. i collect. and while i love my books and papers and ephemera, my toys and clothes and crafts, i’m not going to be auditioning for “Hoarders” anytime soon. but – having watched my first episode today – i can see that i am made of the same fabric as these others. we are people who are afraid.
afraid of losing someone. afraid of letting go of the past. afraid of living in the now, and the uncertainties of life. afraid of forgetting something, or not having what we need, or throwing away something important or of value.
afraid of letting people in. afraid of looking deep inside. afraid of admitting we’ve been hurt, killed, beaten, worn down, abused, neglected and abandoned. afraid of being seen for what we are: weak, vulnerable, and hurting.
but hey! look at that. the entire human race is in this category. and while i might wash my hands too many times after tucking away another thirty copies of fiction titles i’ll never read, you might be socking down your thirteenth bottle of Labatts, or losing the use of your right arm due to a slip up with a bookie.
we’re all of us broken, wounded, beautiful creatures. and the fascinating part of life is watching each of us uncover the treasure beneath all the outer layerings of crap.