My cluttered mind

So much to do. So much left to contemplate.  Most of which is on the QT…so I can’t really splash it all over the headlines at the moment. Let’s just say my address will be changing…for the better.

Natalia heart

I’d really like to sit at the sewing machine and finish the pile of diapers sitting there, or better yet do the top stitching on the stack of receiving blankets.  But I don’t.  I look at the sewing table a mere 6 feet or so from my chair with the piles of flannel and cotton beseeching me to sew and I can’t make myself cross those 6 feet to just do it.  I know once I sit over there I can accomplish the lot of it in a few hours, then I can throw the blankets in the wash and then pin and package the diapers, have those piles completed and out of my mind…it’s those 6 feet of space and the overwhelming jumble of thoughts crowding my mind that keep firmly in my seat watching the TV blindly.

 

monkey madness

monkey madness

What do I keep, what do I donate, what do I give to someone I know, what do I unceremoniously throw away?!?  Have been living in this little death trap for 20 years.  Wow. I type that 20 years and I realize I have aged as healthily as the craptacular abode I’ll soon be escaping with its 70’s linoleum and so many horrible memories.  Do I pack the memories too? Will they slither along with the boxes of books and breakables to take up new residence? Of course they will.  Natalia’s memory came with to this trailer from those apartments.  Oh to just erase all the bad and just keep the good…deal with it, cope with it, accept it…sigh.  I’ve been living with so much tripe taking up space in my mind and heart for so long I’m tired of it.  Oh I’ll hang on to the memory of Nat even if I have to have the memory of her death.  I’d like to totally loose all memory of the first marriage mistake but keep all the memories of the lovely children that occurred because of that union.  I’ll give up the memory of the ridiculous rebound marriage too, but keep the memories of my girls and the birth of the sweet grandson. It’s a shame you can’t have selective memory loss…of course no offence meant to anyone’s anyone suffering from memory loss.

Natalia N Tabitha

See it’s all these stinking memories clogging my mind when I’m busily cramming more stuff in there: appointments to get to, things to remember to ask at said appointments, things to revise, things to do.  Pay the property taxes ASAP, pay the rent, pay the medical bills, oh go to work and be productive so you get paid.  Clean the fish tanks, yeah plural.  Feed Akmed. Feed Helga. Make Shamus’ vet appointment…find out how much that will cost.  Hey that big bag of chopped up monkey bodies…sew those together you freak! Ship out boxes to the 4 corners of the planet…gotta keep acquiring that good Karma, I’ll need it this coming year for sure.

monkeyz-the-group-9-30-121.jpg

Lists. Post-its. Scribblings on napkins, envelopes, sketchings of furniture placement, contemplations of decorating in a cool yet not really ‘me’ way.  Can’t be wicked cool…will have to be subdued…ugh…dare I say adult.  Unhappy face.  What of my posters? Yeah, SO juvenile but they are so cool.  My muses to keep me going, the rainbow happiness surrounding me goading me to sew, create, envelope me with busyness…a frappe of color and texture…now white…a blank canvas I can’t paint. So very empty of expression.  What of dangling deals in the windows from the ceiling moving slowly in the air currents that surround the life living there?  Dare I hang the witch’s ball in the window? That I do. Shhhh. Perhaps no one will notice.  But the rest, the wind chimes, the mobiles, the oddness hanging from string will all have to go else where with someone else…or in the trash. Another unhappy face.

Anger

Garage sale of things I really don’t want to see go? How does one price items they still like? I’m probably a hoarder of some sort, without the dead flattened animals under piles of refuse.  I just like weird stuff.  Odd ash trays (I don’t smoke), weird mugs I’ll never drink out of, postcards from places I’ll never go, statues, glass things, stuffed beasties, spooky dolls.  Things I don’t need but I like to have.  I like to look at.  How do I choose?  Do I keep the weird doll mom made in the 70’s, named Ruthie with the blue face Stevie ‘adopted’, or do I keep the black Kewpie doll? If I keep both do I then get rid of the Shamus dog collection? I can easily say good bye to the crockery and silverware, glasses cups rugs, towels nondescript furnishing and appliances we won’t need.  I can even be OK with giving/selling the Halloween collection I won’t have room for, perhaps even the Giraffe family with their friends the rhinos…but my zombie dolls, Oonies and sock monkeys…I just don’t know if I can part with them…they aren’t essential like oxygen, but they make me happy…too damn many thoughts…too damn many things to decide about.  Which books can leave? OMG…don’t get me started on books! They’re as prolific as DVDs, CDs, records, yeah vinyl, even cassettes…OY, guitars…playable ones, ones left to be built, bodies painted fabulous but that no real hope of completion any time soon…do people buy guitar parts at garage sales?  Unhappy face once again…

pained grin xmas 2009

I’m happy to move, happy to live in a solid actual house.  HAPPY damnit.  This is a good thing for all of us.  A really healthy change for all of us, have to get happy about it.  Fresh start, out with old in with the new.  New is so scary though.  Oh no…here come the what-ifs…they suck as much as the thoughts of getting rid of things.  What if this doesn’t go smoothly?  What if we end up hating each other?  What if this causes more stress and friction in this tinderbox of a family?  What if we all don’t bend and cope and accept life together? This can’t possibly go in a perfectly ordered tidy calm way.  Look at us, a family of freaks with our menagerie of freaky pets, all of us on different schedules for every thing, we’re all odd and don’t even blend with each other much less mashing us with another human being who’s a bit less malleable than any of us could hope for.  Well, guess we’ll aim for a forced frappe, blend this family like no other before it.  Now to just teach Shamus to be incredibly happy in a quiet way and set all the TVs to be read rather than heard…this new chapter will prove interesting if nothing else…and I will be happy about it…damnit…slightly less unhappy face

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