All I've wanted to do is to focus enough to make something, anything. I need my art to process everything I'm going through at my job, but I couldn't get to anything in my mess of an art closet, and I couldn't work past all the noise in my head to sit still long enough to concentrate. To accomplish the impossible - organizing my art closet - I had to ultimately clean out my entire apartment and set myself moving forward. And so began my month of organizing.
It started one weekend when my husband started to pull out everything in our hall closet. We had leaking in our apartment the week before, almost ruining all our wedding stuff stored in boxes near the culprit window. I wanted to move it but didn't know what else to shift around. And he was desperate to get rid of, well, my stuff. And there are long stories about searching for a bigger apartment, buying a house, deciding on a state, and figuring out our adult lives that are as overwhelming as all of our stuff. We've become masters of using every corner, so trust me when I say it was A LOT OF CRAP. And we realized that we were still living two lives: 2 sets of everything seperately maintained all over our apartment, and it was bulging at the seams. This project took a solid day but was the one thing he and I could control, and we began to bring our lives together in a way they had not for 10 years. And bonus, you can reach in for the vacuum and not get swallowed by toilet paper, knit hats, computer boxes, and flower pots. Our paperclip collections have merged and now co-habitate a shared workspace. Very romantic.
This project felt GOOD. It was addictive, and so I had to do more.
From my file cabinet, I recycled several bags of papers and shredded uncounted bags more. I had intense inner arguments with myself about prescription receipts, instructions for TVs owned ten years ago, and remembered old jobs, old schools, old apartments, good and bad. Another weekend came and went, and my addiction grew. A wise friend pointed out that my organization addiction was related to a need to have control over something, and I began to realize how out of control my day to day life was: at work, I needed to be ready for anything and was exhausted for it; at home, I methodically set systems, recycled what I no longer needed, and felt a simple, tired soreness in my back and my brain from bending and sorting. I also felt something inside of me begin to shift.
And then, I was ready to tackle the art closet. I spent an afternoon going through my source material, finding poems, more magazines, letters from estranged family members, a sticker collection from my 8 year old self, half completed art projects. I began to untangle the material from the project. Setting aside nostalgia, I hacked through without mercy. The end result is a closet I can WALK into, collect what I need for my project, and return it at the end of the day.
I still have quite a bit more to accomplish in our tiny apartment, but we both find that we are more proud of our space than we have been for a long time. There are no more boxes lurking in corners, our space is functional and uncluttered (okay, that's a lie, but seriously, waaaaay better). And cheesy, yes, but I also realized a bit about myself. I have come a long way from my mom's basement, a lonely dreamer who didn't think she would go to college much less be married, with degrees and a career. I am still the one who hides money all over (shamefully I found $200 in cards kept in storage), who has way too many interests and is reading 6 books at once. But I have also joined myself in the present, choosing what items I want to keep with me instead of drowning in the muck and mire of the past. My job still overwhelms me, I continue to work on my relationship, I am riddled with home sickness and I have no idea what state I want to live in. But maybe now I can actually make something, maybe now I can let myself breathe a little bit and be in the present instead of burdened by the past and uncertain about the future.
I've recently become re-interested in crocheting. Last year, I got pretty good at knitting, finishing a pair of mittens and finally becoming thwarted by socks. Many years before that, I had spent lunch breaks crocheting a massive blanket and several hats. A woman at work taught me how to crochet a circle, and has opened up this whole new world of crochet projects, particularly amigurumi, the art of crocheting or knitting little creatures. I picked up this awesome book called Crobots, and over Thanksgiving, rocked out some of these creatures. To be stuffed and accessorized asap.
This is a knit project started maybe two years ago. When finished, it will be an awesome pillow with arms, legs, eyes and a warm smile. Intended for my brother. Thought that by posting it here, I would be shamed into finishing it.
And two books that are kicking my ass. I'm determined to learn how to crochet smooth, flat hexagons and join them together into a blanket or even a scarf. I've been practicing at night and then throwing the little circles across the room in frustration. And that is the socks book that made me put down knitting. But I'll be back.
