It is a good idea, maybe even a great idea, but it won’t last. There are a lot of good ideas and intentions that lie still as death under my feet. I get an idea, run with it for awhile, hit a wall, and I go back to things most familiar. This leaves the idea to wither and die.

A large portion of the clutter is remnants of ideas long since dead. I find the remnants, wonder what it was, remember, and think ‘why the hell did I think that it was something worth my time/money?’ Yes, a person should try new things and I do try but more inclined for the familiar.

A noticed pattern that has become clear over the last few weeks as I become more firmly intrenched in my resolve to declutter.

Another recent pattern (that probably won’t last) is that I use the same eight kitchen items over and over every day when I hand wash the dishes. I’ve been hand washing the dishes for over a week. I hate doing dishes yet I find something soothing in washing these dishes. My dishwasher has been serving as a drying rack. There has been the thought of not having a dishwasher should I downsize but that is ridiculous.

Writing is why I think this pattern will go away soon. When I devote my focus to writing or other creative pursuits, the housework slips away from me. This is further aggravated by ‘bad health days’ which are extremely frequent. These reasons are also why homesteading and living the  nomadic life in a motor home are unreasonable ideas when moved beyond paper and thought.

I know why the motor home is such a tantalizing idea but embarking on the idea won’t fix the reasons why. Must bear the reasons and try to ease their burden without ‘running away’.

Reading back through what I have just written for this post, I have further proof of another pattern. My ideas and notions are very sporadic and, at times, conflicting. It comes as no surprise that I have several writing projects going at one time and none are done quite yet. They will be at some point though.

There are ideas that stick and stay but I have to complete them on my own timetable. Functioning on my own timetable keeps everything in my world from spiraling into absolute chaos. The only thing that can survive not being on a timetable is editing work for others. I get it done promptly and move it along as I can go back to my own “world”. I suppose it is because editing is such a right brain oriented task that it is not victim to the left brain’s flights of fancy.

Decluttering and downsizing cannot and will not be ideas that wither and die. If I do not complete them, I will have ultimately learned nothing and remain stagnant in every aspect. I cannot cling to tattered life that way. Need to grow, heal, and reassemble.

Issues that fifteen minutes does not seem to make much of a dent in which is why I am still writing about decluttering months after I started. Granted, there were times I slacked off in favor of other activities but I am determined to get real serious about getting it done. After so many months, there is a noticeable difference in my environment which leads to the determination. It is challenging to see the light at the end of the tunnel when everything is blocking the way but brick by brick, the light is starting to become brighter.

Yesterday’s “victim” on my war path was the most clutter prone counter in my kitchen. It is now spotless and reorganized along with the three upper cabinets. I even scrubbed the microwave, toaster oven, tiles, and cabinet doors just because they were there. It took around two hours in fifteen minute increments to complete but I am happy with the results.

Today features record-breaking heat and a swamp cooler that refuses to work so I have been hiding out on the cooler, darker half of the house and writing. I’ve written three poetry pieces and will soon work on editing projects until it is cool enough to venture to the kitchen. (Evil skylights!) If I can get to the kitchen tonight, I plan to sort through the pantry cabinets along with the refrigerator.

Wow, my life sounds so dull. A necessary evil on the way to a simpler and, hopefully, more creatively productive life.

On the side of other projects’ progress, I did get the Kindle versions of The Heart of Autumn and The Soul of Winter reformatted so they are readable once more. A Hundred Flames is closing in on completion. With my upcoming participation in June’s Camp NaNoWriMo, I hope to get A Hundred Flames and Smoke & Spirit done. I have ideas to write about for both so there is a very real possibility of it.

afraid of the empty places
between here and there
fill them up with things
pretend to have a need
but end up eating my sanity
as they multiply without assistance
afraid to rip off the bandage for fear
of unknown hemorrhaging
of unknown means of dying
will I rise up, rise up again
a phoenix from ash
or pulled down under the waves
driven by fatigue and madness
as I pick at the wounds
at the objects choking empty spaces
pulling up tiny bandage edges
hope for a sign that all will be okay
that it will not end with a white sea
trapping me to an unseen abyss
waiting, waiting like the Grim

took to running in the sky
tripped along stars
as they attempted to stop me
shattering their lives as it did mine

took to running in the sky
to find missing breath
only to suffocate astride stars
urging me back down to earth

took to running in the sky
for the earth could not forgive
corralling rainbows in my paper crinoline

It has been awhile since I posted anything for New Poetry Wednesday. Trying to come up with something for this Wednesday…uncertain which already written piece I should post or perhaps a completely new written today piece.

The decluttering continues…slowly but it continues… Progress is also starting to be seen which is a fantastic motivator. Nothing worse than doing a ton of work and never having any proof – internal or external – that it was completed. Things would probably go a little quicker if I stopped looking at floor plans for smaller homes along with foreclosure listings. There are 3 immensely important things a new home needs – 1. less than 1300 square feet, 2. a functional layout, and 3. an inexpensive price tag. It amazes me how many small homes manage to have a lot of their space wasted by awkward halls, strange closets, and odd room placement.

What I lack in perkiness and optimism, I make up for with enthusiastic quirkiness and procrastination tendencies.

The Tears of Spring will come out soon as a Kindle book. I had intended for it to come out in April but I have been most indecisive about what pieces should go into it. I think I have finally settled on a lineup. The general edits are done. Just need to format and upload. Of course, I need to figure out what went wrong with the other books so I can apply the corrections to this one too.

Work forges ahead on A Hundred Flames and Smoke & Spirit. Why I thought it would be neat to try and get two 100 poem chapbooks written at the same time is beyond me but it is happening. At the current writing rate (and the continued preference of them over the novels in verse), I should have them done by the end of the year. Still finding it strange that both have a fire-like reference in the title. Did not plan for them to be that way.

Suppose I should stop procrastinating and continue getting the office stuff moved to its new location that out of the way of the work going on with the rest of the house.

That is how I have been feeling lately but I have glimpsed where all has potentially gone wrong; what machine I have ended up in and I am attempting to change. Been working on downsizing all of my possessions in hope that I can one day soon downsize my home. I do not need 2100 square feet worth of house for myself and my three fur kids. Cannot fathom why I ever thought I needed so much space or stuff. This space over the past 5 years has lead more to horrid distraction and destruction of creativity rather than to a cozy inspiring home I desire.

Decluttering and downsizing take time because things need to decided upon and sorted out. It is a very overwhelming and exhausting process which often leads to startling realizations. I have come to realize that I have zero attachment to at least 75% of my home’s content. So why do I have such things then? No idea. I suppose at one time I felt that the items filled some purpose or some need. Now they are just a testament to me being a cog in the machine of mass consumption of consumer goods. A testament that I needed to change.

Some days, I wish I could just box up what does matter to me and make the rest disappear into a dumpster. Hesitant to do that though. A lot of money went toward that stuff and I would probably regret not donating most of it and/or selling what I could. The funds of selling would go to a smaller place or it be used to indulge this really odd  life-oriented dream I’ve been having.

To understand why this dream is odd, you need to know some important things about me. I am a homebody and I do not liking driving long distances and by long distances, I mean something further than an hour or so away. So the dream is this: I want to get a decent sized RV, load up my fur kids and my prized possessions, make it home, and travel to places seeking peace and creativity. I think it would be wonderful to be like a bird – traveling south for fall and winter, traveling north for spring and summer. How wonderful being free to write and edit with only minimal distractions.

What is important to me? My fur kids, my writings, my 1500+ books, my computers, my music, most of the movies, my new mattress, my sewing machine, a few gift items and the scrolls given to me, and some of the fabric and/or garb I own. Everything else is just space filler and it is filling a ton of space.

This filler is why I rarely blog anymore and devote 1 day a week to nothing but writing my books. Everything else is consumed by sorting through this black hole of where things went very wrong. I hate having to acknowledge what has gone askew but a person gets to a point in life where they are forced to re-evaluate their priorities, their mission, their bliss, and their hopes.

For all my plans and all my to-do lists, I am only inches from where I was in December. Either there is way too much chaos in my life and surroundings or I completely overestimate my ability to accomplish certain tasks within a timeline. I suspect that it is a combination of both things.

Still, one day, I hope to be able to remember to do simple tasks on a weekly basis – like posting for New Poetry Wednesday – in addition to continuing on with all of the projects demanding my attention and affection.

For today, the secondary draft of The Tears of Spring was printed out for editing and there is a possibility in the continuation of writing toward the three other aforementioned works.

Happy Reading!

I spent most of the day curled up under an electric blanket and a purring Anubis cat because Colorado’s weather decided to drop 40 degrees and bring 7 inches of snow to the Front Range. Factor in a spiffy new bout of the common cold and pure exhaustion, I was happy for a day in a nice warm bed.

About an hour ago, I managed to pull myself away from blanket solace in an effort to clean up the office/living room as I continue on the mass purge of household contents. A purging that I foolishly started during November. So far, I’ve made a decent chunk of change for 30+ books and 15 music CDs. I found a home for around 30 YA books and will be helping make the holidays happier for a 12 year old girl. I’m also sending a lot of bead working items and fabric to her. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve recycled an unbelievable of paper and put a rather embarrassing amount of stuff in the local landfill.

My old office is now mostly cleared out thanks to purging – I still have two disassembled beds and a desk in there that need to be moved. Unfortunately, the rooms for the beds are still “congested” and I need help moving the desk once the beds are gone. Tomorrow begins work on the scariest room in the house – the storage room. I haven’t been able to set foot in there since September 2008 or so…I think. Most of the content are actually boxes of fabric and the intent to donate a lot of the fabric and sell the rest is the motivation for starting that room this week. Part of my brain thinks I should do the easier rooms first and forget about donate fabric but that would be the easy way out, a way to procrastinate. This procrastination is why I haven’t really been in that room for years. No more procrastination.

I was suppose to go somewhere tomorrow evening but may end up opting out. I really do not feel well. I have to keep stopping the cleaning process every 5-10 minutes because I feel nauseated and dizzy. How I am getting anything done is a mystery to me. Being put into a social situation for several hours is highly unappealing. I might feel differently tomorrow but, for right now, I am thinking there is no way in hell I will survive social interaction.

I went to shovel snow from my walk this afternoon. Much to my surprise and happiness, someone was kind enough to shovel it for me. No idea as to who did such a wonderful thing for me but I am most grateful. I loathe shoveling snow so much so that I let the sun do most of the work as I live in a south facing house.

I finished the edits to The Soul of Winter on Wednesday while at the final NaNoWriMo write-in. I plan to start formatting it and get it ready for publishing this coming week. While most of my week involves household purging, I’ve set aside a day for work on my books and apply some more advertising avenues for my editing business.

My goals for December are as follows:
- Get all the content written during NaNoWriMo organized and placed in their perspective work files
- Get the whole house purged and reorganized
- Get a few more editing clients
- Get The Soul of Winter ready to publish in January
- Do more work on Reaper’s Moon, A Hundred Flames and Midnight Red.
- Read the remaining 33 books to get to the yearly goal of 500 books read.

As she lays still
Surprise in her eyes
An extinguishing flame
Strip her down
To love every inch
As she struggles to fight
Fight the feelings that will be
Be the last she will remember
Express love with a tight grip
As she wheezes out a plea
Delve deeper between her thighs
Share a kiss on her lips
Locked in screams, trapped
As she lays flopping
Under the force of forever love
Arousing the passion further
Never meant for it to go this far
True love has no boundaries
In the end, in the end of ends
Show her what her love has meant
With an even tighter grip
Preserving her here, now and eternity
Like the summer rose pressed
Pressed between a book’s pages
Expel life to keep her true
To show her what love means
Even as she turns blue