It's been quite some time since anyone has posted to this blog and I'm not even sure anyone will know I'm posting to it tonight. I wondered how long we could sustain it with our busy lives. Although I have often been awake this late, I was too exhausted to even contemplate writing or typing one more keystroke from the long day of work before.

I've been off of work this week for Spring Break--a much needed break to be sure. I know many of us live the same lives essentially: working well past eight hours a day and then we tend to other obligations. Mine isn't a unique story. I planned on using this time off to clean out closets, deep clean the fridge and oven, and other such things that have been neglected for the past year. Yeah, year. What I've actually used this time for, so far, is to clean a little--not really much, but I can see the counter top on one side of my stove now where there were stacks of papers, mail, casserole dishes left at a friend's house and a random plastic deal that looks like it might be for making bubbles. Or a tennis racket for Jem (do you remember her? bigger than Barbie and with more sass). And honestly, I've done a lot of thinking. Many much thinking. And daydreaming. But more thinking that daydreaming.

Tonight was an especially wild roller coaster of emotions from thinking. While half-watching American Idol I pulled out a large box of papers and various other crap-tchkies (like tchotchke, but crappier) to finally sort through it. I've been toting this large crate-o-crap around from apartment to apartment, from state to state. At one time it only held "important" papers. Through various moves other things got tossed in the mix. Again, at first things that seemed important, so I would know where to find them. But then as time wore on and I no longer even remembered what was in the box, the crap crept in. Instead of just dealing with it, I kept lugging this huge purple plastic bin with me from place to place. There finally came a point when no more junk would fit, so I just wrapped packing tape around and around it, and moved it. It actually became so heavy that I can't pick it up myself. I can scoot it, but not lift it. Always had to have some strong friend lift it for me.

Tonight, I wrestled the purple abyss into my living room, sat on the love seat, and began sorting. I found a lot of old mail that I am not sure why I kept. Some went in the shred pile, some just tossed in a large trash bag--the extra stretch kind. I came across the rejects of a CD cover I made for a friend about five or six years ago. He hates, no loathes, the country band Alabama. So, of course, for his birthday, I burned him a CD chock full of Alabama songs and the cover was the band with one of the guys photoshopped out and James photoshopped in. Lots of fun and seeing the rejected CD covers made me laugh and I actually called James to catch up with him. We haven't seen each other in about three or four years. I continued to sort as I talked to James. Sharing some of the stuff I was finding along the way. A box of floppy disks--no clue what is on them. A boat load of cassette tapes. He made fun of me for that, but gave me a reprieve when he found out they were sermon tapes from about five years ago. I have no cassette player, so they really won't do me much good. Considering I never even listened to them the first time, I guess they did me no good then either. :-P

After we hung up, I continued to dig. I found a drawing my niece made for me when she was about ten. She's 18 now. I smiled, took a pic with my phone and texted it to her and my sister. Good memories. I also found a contact sheet for some photos I took with her brother, my nephew Davin, the last time I got to see him before he passed away from cancer. Good memories, but the kind that make you cry anyway. I'm tearing up again now thinking about it. I tried not to get carried away as I dug furiously through the bin, searching for the photos, or the negatives, or a disk. What frickin' camera did we use for these? Was it film or digital? I calmed myself and just decided to continue through the bin. I haven't found them still. I only have the torn contact sheet. I know people say the memories are in your mind, that we don't need to fill our lives with "stuff" to remember. But I do! Until I saw the photos, I'd remembered him how he was when he was about five. Had I forgotten what that bastard Cancer had done to his poor body? No, I *know* what it did, but I didn't remember him that way. Was that a good thing? Or bad? Right now I'm not sure.

I came across some recipes from my mom, sister, friends' moms. Some bible lessons that I guess at the time were poignant to me. A random book on weeds and berries. Two tests from my college physics classes that I was especially proud of. Got a 98 on a final. I actually remember that day, but that's a story for another insomniac night.

As I showered a little while ago, I started thinking that this bin really sort of represents baggage many of us carry. Mental baggage that I allowed to become physical. Some of it is definitely worth keeping. All of the other crap buried the good stuff. I filled it with crap, made others carry it or I would scoot it when necessary. No room for more. I've sort of done this. I'm full-up. Full of junk I'm hanging on to. Friends who've let me down, yet I hang on. And on. And on. Times I've let others down and yet I don't forgive myself even when they have forgiven me. Woulda, shoulda, couldas. Personal life? Ha! <soup nazi voice>No room for you!</voice>

As this is not a Lifetime movie, I am sure the transformation will not be overnight, or within the next 30 minutes, but I hope tonight's lesson sticks with me. I hope to start letting go of the crap to make room for more life. Good, bad and otherwise. All of it.