What does productivity even mean in a time a COVID?
Whatever it is, it’s hardly applicable to my head space. It’s not welcome because it brings its dour cousins guilt and regret every time I settle into YouTube drama hole. They shake their heads and judge me silently. It’s easier to ignore them when caught up in the messiness of other’s lives.
My creativity, on the other hand, has been engaged in other pursuits. Mostly dusting off those old skeletons in my closet and dealing with the practical matter of clutter.
Clutter’s been my dirty little secret for the last few years. I keep a clean looking appearance but if you investigate the nooks and crannies you’ll find piles and piles of things stuffed everywhere.
My mind’s been consumed by it. What to donate, what to throw away, what to do with…? My every free waking moment spinning some variant of these questions.
I feel like a new person as I cast off old perceptions of myself. So my clothes I thought I’d rock with their frills, long sleeves, and melon necks. Paper bits I thought would mean something ten years out. Books kept on sentimental currency over genuine enjoyment.
This is a journey that I don’t anticipate will end any time soon.