I am not sure if it is laziness, perception, of a time and space measurable phenomena, but it feels like I have gone from documenting the phenomena of my lack of creativity to creatively moaning about it.
So, when I haven’t been moaning about my lack of creativity and procrastinating effectively by writing, planning and occupying my time brilliantly concerned with navel-gazing about procrastinating, has there even been time for anything. I have even begun to wonder myself if there is life beyond procrastination and un-creativeness. Perhaps I could write a book about this very thing, a suitable post-modern ironic twist with which to weave my woe.
Sadly, I am not thinking of which publishers to approach, instead I have been involved in my own threshing project and having enjoyed the Netflix documentary The Minimalists so much, been reading their site and learning a little more about minimalism than that it’s; “it’s about not having stuff and having cold rooms”. I am not implementing the practice of minimalists, lets keep some perspective and not get too enthusiastic. I am fascinated by the phenomena, because I am fascinated by the drivers of human behaviour. The why not the what. Plus some tidying tips never hurt!
Apart from the minimal arts, my winnowing is part of the changed landscape of my life. In an anonymous blog, it may be obvious that I haven’t talked much about about my past, or my nationality. At this moment in time, my mood has changed, until recently, the thought of the person who abused me, or someone linked to them finding me, or my blog saying that I been abused, causing the what I feel is the inevitable reactive aggressive fallout from that, was something that was too much for me to contemplate.
Not surprising from someone whose life drove them to run out of the ability cope less than a year ago, even if that fear started before the break up. These days, what matters most is not what happens to me, I am concerned more with legacy, and how impact the lives of those around me and those whose lives I touch. I was been landed with no option other than a good dose of rebirth. Repeating past choices not possibles, old skills not there, age brought experience, genetics and environment brought a lot more. I am re-born, some may see it another way. I know I saw it as decimated and destroyed beyond any sort of repair, meaning or purpose way. The man who said and then had tattooed, “without ashes, the phoenix will not rise” had become ashes and forgotten that he had been in the habit of rising, because when the stage was ready. I always rose, but I didn’t rise, I decided to retire.
Things changed, differently from how I expected too; and for the better. The changes that resulted from my overdose, along with me finding me again somewhere in the string of 24 hours, led to a somewhat different update on me. Deciding living wasn’t so bad and nearly dying again anyway can, I guess, have that effect. That is a level of experience that changes you. Not that you can really quantify or teach what you learned; it is simply that you are never the same as before. In my case not some epiphany reversal from black to right; but, something, hard to say, February was a strange time. I had a week of being really unsteady on my legs and forgetful, like a brain misfire, until the lights went out completely. For the next 7 days I have about 1 minute of memories for 7 or 8 days I am not sure.
That is why I am not making excuses so much, and I am definitely putting a stop to inventing a reason to make an excuse, especially if I am inventing the reason so I can look a certain way under the delusion anyone is looking or that it mattered if they were. Mentally, adjustment is an understatement, physically change is one too. In the world of stuff and things, I have to clear out, things that are worn out, broken, duplicated with an upgrade or just not wanted or needed anymore. Not forgetting all those things I kept just in case, and here I am 15 years later, still never needed them, I should risk it. I needed to clear out just for sanity reasons, now the decision to downsize the house is both sensible and timely. It lets us, (married mouse) moved to somewhere we would like to retire, and to a house a little easier to maintain, mostly on the outside actually. So it is not my house I want to change, I wish I could move it, just the view. So given that job, best to travel a little lighter than currently. Where too?
A place where life is more thoughtful and deliberate, where there are no supermarkets and plethora of shops within easy walk , when you run out of milk it isn’t 8 minutes to replace it, even on Christmas day. Places where life, still nothing like it once was, is more obviously fragile, precious and about survival, not about getting the wrong blend of almond milk in your Chai-Latte before your Chakra-Hot Yoga ruining your day. Life is in some way more authentic.
While I love my things, I do I admit it, I am no minimalist, I love having all the choices I have. Reading about minimalism, I have discovered that I have, somehow, through all my clutter and mountains of stuff, arrived at a philosophically not so dissimilar end point. My things don’t control me, I like them not need them. I like looking at my Dad’s cheap Rolls Royce Radio or my Grandad’s Brass Submarine, and gazillions of other completely useless clutter items in my office. If you are wondering why I have 5 sets of over the ear headphones it is easy, I bought 1 paid to give, but they were not wanted, 2 were given to me, and 2 I purchased 8 years apart, the second pair on recommendation of their great battery life and sound quality. That allows me to travel with the in the ears that come free with phones, and have a travel set of wireless ones too while a good set can stay. So, I don’t need all those sets, but I haven’t found anyone to pass them on to either. Which is a bit of my dilemma.
I have over the years collected some really nice objects, far to functional or aesthetically pleasing to bin. In the case of my headphones, all of them deliver outstanding sound quality, which is not surprising given their release price tags. Given to me by audiophile friends upgrading to much better kit who knew I would be deeply grateful for such equipment. Which I am, massively grateful for all the wonderful hand-me-downs I have had which have allowed me to save money to buy the nice things I have bought and experience the very nice things I could never have bought. I like to re-home certain things, and that takes time sometimes. Other stuff you charity shop or sell. Although the recent shenanigans over an £8 metal bin have truly taken some believing. Although selling gym equipment can top everything for the amount of chancers and idiots you have to wade through to find a real buyer.
Where was I again? No more excuses, and there is a reason for that, I am not sure that I need or want to be excused. I am not really procrastinating, and I am not really being uncreative. I am not writing poetry worth a damn, my fiction is just that, a fiction. I have more sides, I am learning again, I have a personal mission and goal and a reason for reorientation. I am finding me in the aftermath and I am rebuilding not because I have to, but because I want. In reality, if I chose to give up, that decision is better supported and better understood by medicals and social work professionals. I have to take myself off the hook, in each department of my life and stop finding a reason to give myself a negative appraisal, and say “I am not good enough because …”.
Those days have to be done with, the excuses for things that are only wrong because I am the judge jury and executioner, have to stop. I have to allow myself to be happy, especially when, unlike so many people, I have great group around me telling me supportive, happiness growing, authentic, true things about myself.