taking a shot

Every morning when I sit in the park, I plan out my day in my head. Sometimes the day is full of errands, I route them out. I take into account if and when I'll become hungry and what neighborhood I will be in when that hunger comes about. When I do everything in my mental checklist, the day leaves me feeling satisfied and with a purpose no matter how mundane the tasks of that day were.

Lately however, I sit in the park and I can't think of anything I ought to do. There's nothing I 'need' nor anything I would want. I dig and dig and dig for things. I scroll on my phone and look at cleaning supplies I might want to try. I try and think of what I might want to write. I think maybe I'll want to write at a coffee shop but all of the coffee shops I usually like to write at have begun to bother me. Should I start writing at a bar at 1 in the afternoon somewhere far uptown? I talk myself out of it because I don't want to take the train downtown at rush hour. I tell myself I'll try a new restaurant but I always talk myself out of that too because I worry I won't like it. 

I thought for a moment that this weird phase I am in is because I'm losing my spirit in daily living. Not in a way that a doctor would prescribe as depression but that maybe it's all simply getting old to me. As a creature of habit this is a startling place to come to. I tell myself over and over again that change is good, that transitions in life are some of the most poignant times for growth but I always lose sight of that ladder. I want to stay right where I am! But I hate where I am. 

Of course I don't hate where I am in my life, in fact I am rather satisfied with my work life, my home, and my social life. I've spent hours wondering where this nameless and invisible void came from and when. 

Around a year ago, my camera broke. I wasn't too torn about it. These things happen. Film cameras are especially fragile and like a everything, they may die without any warning. I saw that death as a great time to try something new. I bought a camera on Ebay that broke within a week and I hated the way the photos looked despite it being $600 and every photographer told me they loved it. Now I had no money and no camera. I was mad! Fast forward to July, a friend sold me his $2,500 camera for $500! What a steal I thought! But that camera hasn't felt like mine and I don't think it ever will. The photos just aren't me.

So on it's way from Japan as I write is the camera that I hope will bring me closer to normalcy. The camera that died about a year ago, not the same one but one that it's now previous owner claims was only used a few times. Just thinking about it being on it's way is making me smile. It's the perfect camera for me. I have missed it so much and I wonder if I'm putting too much weight on the thing but I am getting fidgety just thinking about it.   

dusted

 The other day I decided it was finally time to go through my things and either dust them or ditch them. 

I began with my junk drawer, which in the beginning was difficult. To throw out something innately referred to as 'junk' is hard to justify throwing out at all. Why would one keep something they would call 'junk' in the first place? And if one would keep it why throw it out at all? In my junk drawer I found old ID's, lighters without any fuel, pens from Croatia, perfume samples, someone else's adderall, and empty envelopes with my name on them. I told myself to just throw it all away. I went into my kitchen and grabbed a trash bag and tore the drawer out of my dresser and turned it upside down across my bed. I sifted through everything with haste and kept only the old ID's and any lighters I got on vacation. There were some spare keys I threw into a Gucci bag along with an expensive perfume I was gifted last Christmas. 

I dusted some books. I can't throw away or get rid of any books. There doesn't seem to be a reason to. I am always perplexed when I see on Instagram that people are selling their copy of Bluets by Maggie Nelson. Just give it away! Books like that are meant to live in charity. There are expensive books that I could sell but I am too broke to sell them. I will only sell my expensive books when I have children and they can't eat. 

In my underwear drawer I went through about 15 bras that I have never worn. Two of them were bras that didn't fit and I only kept them for so long because they were once Bella Hadid's. It was clear the whole time that she had never in fact worn them and they were just donation. I threw those out with the lighters and empty envelopes. 

In my drawer of sweaters I had a particularly difficult time. For every sweater there is a perfect moment. I looked at all 30 of them and really looked hard. Most of them I was never going to wear so they went in the garbage with Bella Hadid's bras and the lighters and the empty envelopes.

After all was said and done, I vacuumed my carpet and fluffed my comforter. My room felt lighter. I took the three trash bags out and smoked a cigarette at my desk as I looked at all my hard work. I turned on NPR and Brian Lehrer was talking to those calling in about costume ideas for Halloween. There were only a few minutes left to call in. I was about to call and tell him about my chainmail when a woman called in and said "The best way to make a costume is to take all of the clothes you're about to throw out and really get creative with it! It's a win-win and its great for environment and your wallet!"