Too Tumblr
So, I heard one too many times that my blog’s new template looked very “Tumblr.” I don’t have my own domain name to have my crazy project, this evolving memoir of mine, looking like a Tumblr site. I mean, I know the blog isn’t anything good now, not for a decent while, really, but still… it’s mine, my project. I’ve put years into this place, it’s mine. It’s not nothing, it’s something. At least, to me it’s something.
I’ll try changing this template, the parts that don’t work. The Italian comments and what-not.
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Something not found
Pretty closet
This is a really shitty post, but whatever.
We cleaned out my closet and my armoire yesterday, practically nothing was spared, old printers (yes, plural), birthday cards, power-bricks to Jesus knows what devices anymore, like, two-hundred-ish DVD movies, pretty much everything went to Goodwill or the trash.
Usually, as I’ve mentioned before, I love just purging everything, I’m the Anti-Hoarder. Almost nothing’s too sentimental, I’m never all, “I might totally need that!” It all just goes. I was supposed to find something in the armoire thorough, I’d never seen it before, but I expected it to be there. I didn’t really know what I’d do with it, really. I’d have kept it, I think. I’d have kept it . I don’t even know what “it” was, but I miss it. I miss it.
Empty armoire
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Stuff
My closet
It’s not particularly exciting, really, it’s a rather dull thing to write about, nevertheless, here goes. We organized my closet today, bagged a bunch of shirts for Goodwill, hung the rest nice and pretty. Lauren (my assistant) is a spectacular organizer, which I like, I like things pretty. I love throwing “stuff” away, I’ll never end up on Hoarders, I don’t keep socks from when I was seven because that’s the day Elmo, my gold fish died, and so I don’t want to forget him. “Stuff,” I enjoy tossing, it’s freeing.
I keep words though, I have e-mail from 2003, I can’t trash that like “stuff” in my closet. I have first e-mails, last e-mails, from people who are gone, people I don’t want gone. I never go back and read any of them, I wouldn’t feel anything happy, but I can’t lose them. They’re things that happened, perfect little pictures of places I wanted to stay, so I keep them. I’ll never not keep them. “Stuff” isn’t important, not like words, not ever as important as, “Goodnight, I love you…”
So, I keep the words, everything else can burn for all I care.
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A personal challenge
The book I reviewed yesterday kind of inspired me toward something. Cesar Torres challenged himself to write a story a day at a thousand words each, for twelve days. When it was all over, he ended up with a book. I’m not quite so ambitious, not yet anyway, I don’t think I have that much fiction in me. I can, however, blog. I can always blog. So, I’m going to blog at least five hundred words per day during May. Maybe I’ll fail miserably, we’ll see…
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