it's 10:10 pm, on February 06, 2006 - random beach pictures from when I was twelve.

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I've been making new year's resolutions in my head, a little bit, lately. One of my goals for this year is to get a bit more involved in hobbies - it feels like last year I wasn't even particularly involved with the ongoing hobbies I cultivate, i.e.: webdesign and fanfiction, and that's just sad. So now I want to write something every day and I want to drink more water, on top of moving to Toronto.

On the moving front, I ended up putting a few more pieces of my memories through the metaphorical shredder today - which was the literal recycling bin, actually. really, I just went through my photo album, said, "oh my god, I don't need beach pictures from when I was twelve," and put them in a pile for my mother to sort through when and if she ever, for some reason, desperately requires beach pictures from when I was twelve.

I also ended up going through a lot of letters and such, culling some, dumping stuff, letting go of stuff. As I said once (here, I'm sure), I throw out the letters but keep all the stamps. In actual fact, I ended up keeping all the post cards too - ask me why and I couldn't tell you, though I suppose it has something to do with the vague notion that one day I will make some kind of brilliant piece of found-media art project on the walls of my bohemian abode, and have it not at all look like a second grader did it.

yes, I know, but the box is small irregardless, and at least it gives me more pictures to draw from.

Which, oh, did I tell you? In keeping with the "more hobbies", I have resurrected the thing that is my artistic desire, which was sitting on the top shelf of the closet, right beside my intent to learn to sing soprano and that PM Dawn tape from 1993.

The thing of it is, you haven't seen me attempt visual art that actually requires well, visual or art. It's a travesty. it's worse than that. There's a reason my desire to attempt it was sharing space with the electric juicer I got from my grandmother; I stink. Still and all, I feel like the more hobbies I get the more well-rounded I am, and since I'm not going to be taking up raquetball or going jogging, it feels like my only alternatives are to attempt to paint or take up knitting.

The knitting's next, I promise, but I thought I'd start with something that's good for the environment. When I start mailing out little mis-matched scarves to everyone, you'll know I've moved onto something I can't throw out when it sucks. At least the attempt at art can be recycled. Wool lasts.

...maybe I should wait until I've moved to start anything new. You should see the piles of things I have in my walk-in closet I call a bedroom as it is. I have four boxes of books. How could I have accumulated that many books I'm unable to part with? I have a whole box of CDs. Those have got to go. I have about four boxes of DVDs. Those, being that I love them more than my own mother, are coming with me, but I'm going to have to figure out how to ship them nonetheless. DVDs, babies, you know I wouldn't leave you.

Just going through my box of 'sentimental' things (whose entire contents in reality is pretty much a box of beads, a stack of photos, some random little fan souvenirs and a bunch of magazines) I pulled out of the 'fandom' pile a bunch of little rubber dinosaurs, the kind where you get six for a dollar at the dollar store when you're eleven and there's nothing cooler than teeny little rubber dinosaurs that bounch. I'm sure they had deep psychological and emotional meaning at some point, but now they're basically sitting in a pile of stuff entitled "things I could not pay someone to take from me". That pile, alas, is growing steadily.

Maybe I should mail the little things to someone. they might have deep psychological or emotional meaning to someone else. One can only hope, right? And if not, they can always start some brilliant found-media art project and give it to someone else for their birthday. That's what I'm all about - when all else fails, regift it. it's gotta have more meaning the second time around.

Come to think of it, if I could only mail away the entirety of the boxes of things "to dump", my life would be much simpler. Do you think there's a category on eBay for "garage sale crap I can't be bothered to put on my front lawn"? Probably not? Damn it. What about "half-assed pieces of art that were done by someone who paints with her toes"? No? I'm totally screwed. Time to buy some stamps.

The moral of this story is, I'm auctioning off pieces of my life to the highest bidder - well, let's be honest with ourselves, any bidder - because I'm moving and don't want to carry all this stuff with me. If anyone wants beach pictures of me when I was twelve, books, random stuffed animals, or pieces of artwork from when I was fourteen, speak up or forever hold your peace. But my mother gets first dibs.

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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