Detritus and Inertia

I'm in the middle of moving out of my apartment and back to Logan. My last hope at a job for the immediate present fell through, when Valley Fair amusement park in Shakopee, MN, hired the ME/Electrician spot op position before I received an interview, and filled the audio technician position with a local for the sake of expediency, even after taking the time to interview me.

Anyway. I'm writing about the moving process. It's raining and I'm sitting in Wendy's, hoping that perhaps it might let up (though it doesn't appear that it will) a bit before I return to my endeavors.

Over the years and moves I've accumulated a fair amount of shit. Junk. Crap. I hesitate to throw things away because of some potential future value. I hang on to every little thing, every DC adapter, every piece of electronic junk I might use some day. Tools that are obviously barely functional. Pieces of what anyone else might call garbage that I might one day use to build something.

Well no more. Most of it's in the dumpster already. I'm hoping that perhaps my enforced inertia, my seeming inability to move forward and change my state of being, is somehow connected to this debris of life. Like an emotional and mental anchor, lodging me thoroughly in place.

So by divesting myself of it, of anything not directly connected to my work or my amusements, anything that serves no purpose other than filling a closet, I hope that I cut this seemingly unbreakable tether to the status quo. That I am allowed to rise up like a balloon freed of its ballast,

Can it really make much of a difference? I don't know that I can say, but I know that it's a lot less shit to take back home and store there. I'll be glad to be rid of it. I'll return to logan a few hundred pounds lighter for it, and certainly with less shit to worry about.

I'll keep you posted on whether it affects my inertia.