decluttering

I hate…
What seems to be a national obsession with a concept referred to as “decluttering”. What an awkward neologism for tidying! It’s not like this mindset is designed to bring people to a Zen state of few possessions and a withdrawal from worldly concerns. I think it’s only a variant of consumerism which dictates a planned obsolescence cycle whereby you continually get rid of things and acquire new and younger trophy things. Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with keeping things, even if the house gets a little messy. Most people know the difference between keeping things like jigsaw puzzles and board games that the family once enjoyed and dresses that the wearer nostalgically remembers looking good in, and towers of old newspapers or barrels of empty cat food cans. In the days before abundance, people kept things and things had value and meaning. Now we often have too much, but that doesn’t mean most of it has to be thrown away even if it’s useful or meaningful. What a bunch of conformists these declutterers are!

waxing ruminants

I hate…

Car decals and placards with pointless information about the occupants.

Baby on Board?  Oh, okay.  In that case I’ll just go rear end someone else.  Oh, I know, how about … STICK FIGURE FAMILY?  Here goes: @#$$&#()@(*#)*%_)&#)#&)@#(!   The crumpled car door creaks open, and a pile of broken sticks falls to the ground.  Yay!

Our peasant forbears knew better than to boast about things so important as family.  They knew that arrogantly broadcasting to the world the size and nature of your family would inevitably draw the evil eye.  What about Niobe, whose fourteen children were killed by vengeful gods as punishment for her intemperate boasting?  Think she had chariot decals?

You know I think I will get a car decal after all.   An EVIL EYE!

It’s all we do anymore, boast and broadcast.  There’s nothing modest about blogging.  It assumes an at least minimal interest of the outside world in your life, thought processes, purchasing decisions.  And in many cases minutiae of your existence that  your own mother doesn’t care about.

It pervades our society.  For each and every one of us, it’s all about the me. Why do we want to focus so many eyes on ourselves?  Is this the only way to make our existence real these days, by demanding loud and continual virtual attention? Whisht.

Let’s all get a life. But how and more importantly where?  In the real world?  What is that anymore when more and more of us spend large amounts of time, effort, and heart in a virtual one?  Il faut cultiver notre jardin.  However, afterwards, il faut blog about the experience.

Well, I’m really sleepy cause of the busy day I had yesterday with my earwax problem and I really have to go to the bathroom right now, so signing off.

must start somewhere

I haven’t picked a very appetizing title for this blog, but it’s primarily for me, anyway.  Since only a few people are likely to run across it, the power to offend is very limited.   I’m torn between two topics for today’s post: people who fail to pick up their dog’s leavings, and people who imagine that their lives are sufficiently interesting to justify the huge wads of verbiage they deposit online.  Say,  maybe those two topics are not that different after all…