Empty Drawers and Creativity


Help! I’m drowning…

clothes rack
Photo by Daian Gan on Pexels.com

I have no empty drawers in my house. No empty shelves. No empty closets.

I have too many things. Am I materialistic? As a typical American, the answer is probably yes.

The myriad knickknacks, magazines, and (dare I say it?) even books are suffocating me.

Batteries, business cards, binoculars…

Clothes, candles, cords…so many electrical cords…

Half-dead plants, pencils, papers. An astounding number of papers.

I try to ignore the stacks of stuff when I walk into my den. And my bedroom. And my kitchen. But they dance mockingly in my peripheral vision. The clutter taunts me.

I can ignore a messy room. Until I can’t. Some people have a tipping point. I skip straight to the exploding point. I MUST get rid of some clutter NOW.

Don’t Mess with Creativity

They say that messy people are more creative. That working in a messy environment encourages new ideas. But can it be too messy? Can you have too much of a good bad thing? You know, the Law of Diminishing Returns and all that.

I can’t create while seeing the clutter and knowing that I should be doing something about it — instead of writing.

So, to help my writing — and to help the people I live with and whom I love so much — I will aspire to own fewer things. My new motto? Possess Less.

I will accomplish my goal one junk drawer at a time.

Little steps.

Little steps.

It’s hard to take little steps while you’re exploding.







Fernweh: Longing for Faraway Places

I love this post. It IS possible to fall in love with a place. Thank you, Anxious Introvert.

An Introvert's Issues

In the fall of 2011, my best friend at the time was finishing a semester abroad in Spain as part of her junior year of college. It had been a lifelong dream, and I still think of her whenever I hear someone speaking Spanish. As early December arrived, I was dreaming of Christmas break and all that entailed — being home for five weeks, surrounded by family and old friends, with not a deadline in sight. My friend, however, was beginning a strange sort of mourning period with which I was unfamiliar.

“I always knew it was possible to fall in love with a person, but I never knew you could fall in love with a place,” she told me one evening. I thought it was such an odd sentiment, and I would be remiss to say I didn’t fancy her a bit dramatic at that moment.

I recalled…

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