The Little Toy Box

New Years day I posted a journal about renewal.  For me, the journey is to understand why we sentimentally hold onto things and why I find myself less and less inclined to oblige.  It certainly can be an emotional process, but one my heart is appreciating.  So with this in mind, I've been gathering piles for donation and friends.  And seriously, I'm not gonna lie - it kinda gives me a high. wink.

The other night while Travis was at a show, I put the current offerings into a neat pile and dragged out an item we're giving the kids across the street.  And for what sparked this journal.

My toy box.

This toy box & I have hung out since like forever.  Its completed form of wood and nails was something way more than that.  It suggested the contents inside were untouchable; a sanctuary for devices and ideas where only I held the key.  And for years, we both kept up our end of the bargain.  A mutually exclusive kinship for the give and take.  Dude, it was like this old, rotund man living in a dark corner, peering out through the ajar closet door - calling me through a strong, but calmly spirited voice.
     You have something new to carefully store?  STUFF IT IN MY GUT!
     You want a place to rest your feet?  SIT ON TOP!
     You need to keep a secret?  STORE IN BACK!

Harmony was only meant to exist through my juvenescence.

The box' survival is near synonymous with appropriately, a kiddy book I used to read called the The Little House.  The house lived on the beautiful countryside, its bones well maintained, surrounded by laughter.  But as the occupants grew up and moved away, sadly there was no one left to love it and the house succame to the elements of life.  Whilst the once roaming hills developed into a major city, the home fell into disrepair; grime and the oblivious passersby shunning it day by day.  But there is hope!  A long-lost relative takes notice and swiftly relocates the little house once again to the country.  Gives it a wash, a tuneup, and a hug.  He is alive once more with a new generation of families to help him flourish!

The Little Toy Box

It became that for me.  The only confidant to an only child.  We grew up together, grew wiser over the years.  But eventually the time came for me to place those memories inside and lower the lid one final time.  my key entombed.

Yesterday the little toy box moved across the street to where three, amazing kids can give it a wash, a tuneup, and a hug.  To save their most precious items, sit upon the lid being silly, hide what needs shelter.  A reminder they always have a buddy, peering out through their closet door, whispering in the voice only for them...

He has a new countryside and I am content.

When Your Number Isn't Up. Yet.

Unsure why I never posted the good* news.      * as in I have no news.  Yet.

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Last October I wrote about the impending layoffs at my company.  The continued rounds they go through to restructure, optimize, strategically position themselves within the industry over the next 5 years are just buzzwords to spit.  It makes them feel better, or the stockholders, or whoever pretends to care.  But most of the folks who keep the engine greased are unmotivated, unhappy, and looking for a place that appreciates their talent and stimulates their soul.  Or is it just me?

When I shared the original entry, details were very speculative.  Certainly for me since I'm the lowest lady blazer bird on the block.  No executive was sharing specifics because why cause panic; but it soon became clear what was already assumed.  Major change was happening but no one knew where the hammer would fall.  In anticipation of hour zero, I even drafted my layoff tweet.  that's kinda fucked huh.

Several tense days passed before my boss called me in for an abrupt conversation.  Up until then, dialogue had ceased, which wasn't helping mitigate concerns.  I can't even offer details if I wanted, other than her saying we're not affected right now.  ...ok...?  It took another 15 minutes of questioning to realize we had been spared the poisonous pink slip till sometime in the new year.  I.e. right about now.
 
I'm glad I saved that tweet.

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Sitting here today, once again on our bed, I watch Leroy play with a pinecone he snuck in.  It's colder now and the door isn't open nearly as often, but I can still hear the street begin to stir.  A few early risers starting their Sunday journey, while I sink with blankets into mine.  Travis is asleep and the cone rattles on the floor; I smile to myself. I don't get why he loves to rip sticks apart, but it's one of his quirks that makes me love the face even more.

During the October discovery, I visioned our outdoor space slipping away.  It was not the inability to fund the work that was disheartening, but losing the means to spend more quality time with the good people in my life.  All the efforts to see it through, washed away.  If that makes sense - I know it's a fine line.  Now, that reverie has morphed into a present realization the imminent is fast approaching.  Not sure exactly when the decision will assemble, but I strongly speculate in the next few weeks.  what a mess.

• Hearing rumors the company will cut people, then be told oh totally, but not you, yet. just hang in there kid for another 3 months while we figure shit out.  It's cool, though.  Keep working hard... you're swell until we say otherwise.
• Oh sorry - you're position has been eliminated.  Or sorry - you'll have less people.  Or - sorry, you'll have more work and less people. Or sorry - you'll have more work, less people, a new boss and no extra money.
• Or WOW! With all this reorganization, we'll be promoting you with a new title, a bit more money, so here - handle all the broken people pieces and get back to work.

thanks yo.

I've had to mull this information in my brain pot for nearly four months.  Four.  Months - think about that.  Having to ponder, question, deduce, rationalize and quantify all the things your mind throws at you in order to justify what's happening.  week after week.  day after day.  Repeatedly trying to understand what you're feeling.  And what you should prepare for.  And having to explain it to people.  And wondering whether you'll be ok after all is said and done.  Craving the positivity in something that is unavoidably filled with sadness. This time affords some acceptance, but not fully.

The collective is most upset by the seemingly dismissive administration who has kept us waiting.  I'm not daft in thinking these decisions aren't unpleasant, nor should they be taken lightly.  However, waiting in the wings are hundreds of employees not knowing whether they will stay above the surface or go down with the ship.  Scrimp or splurge, staycation or vacation.  This time; not the last time.

The productivity vibe of the office has been somewhere between a Christmas break, where you don't want to do anything, and holiday, where you're scrambling to finish shit.  Why jump into something as it may not matter in a few days. It's a goofy yo-yo effect that keeps me half present, half apathetically numb.

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The roads ahead have led me to know it's change I seek, in whatever form.  Comforting how much solace that actually provides.  I'm no fool when it comes to predicting the outcome, so here's my top 3 in the ranking I hope: (1) The company regenerates into a better model and I am given the opportunity to excel once again (2) I've been let go, trading the 9-5 mindset for a pursuance in my own thing (and ok, maybe not so bad having an extended 'vacation' (3) acknowledge this entire foil may not revamp the stagnant career I currently feel, so hello splitsville.

I am ok.  I will be ok.  No joke it'll be hard - I'll cry, probably curse, seek refuge in others for a little bit.  But in an odd way freeing.  That's what keeps me going.  It has to...

Friend Dating

Remember back in school when every, single, day was filled with the smiles and sounds of your friends?  You'd talk between classes, pass notes during, and hangout on the phone for hours with your feet up in the air until dinner was ready?  I miss that.  terribly.  And despite computing several possible algorithms and carrying the one, that's the precise element of youth I don't know how to retain.  School - yeah, that sucked sometimes.  But it was everything else throughout the day which made our lives what they were. 

I've been brawling silently in my head to accept these people I still greatly love aren't around everyday.  I bear the absent closeness that comes only from that.  I miss being asked how I'm doing or hearing a "fuck them" when I'm sad.  have a hug.  There is no longer a set of hours allotted per week to the important task at hand.  No 15 minute snack periods, no 60 minute lunches on the grass, no ditching class and running to the abandoned house across the street... It's all gone.

I remember the kids a few years out of high school would bitch about their new found responsibilities, but they never mentioned the time reduction around friends.  Actually, I concede, you can't possibly know at that age, like with so many things.  So the perpetual youngin' in me who refuses to acknowledge life can't always be that simple, is mournful.  That whole concept begins to wither from our reality the day we graduate.  And yet here we are... or at least here I am.  Struggling to feel connected with the people that mean the most.

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Because I've never been a person to have scores of breathers around me,  I practice the "better people equals less people" model.  So with fewer bodies comes a greater importance put upon thy friendships.  Especially with chicks, I kinda always fell into the 'guys girl' role, so now I fully appreciate ten fold the brilliant, shiny ladies in my life.  And the ones I hope to meet.  I'm encouraged by their actions and learn like a classy sponge, on spectrum's both positive & negative.  It fuels me despite never getting enough.  But I can't put unexpected pressure on any friend when this is what I'm having to figure out; the mutual expectations are a process defined over time.  And I will forever respect that unwritten decree because it's right.  And sure it seems uninterrupted with a spouse or someone sharing your home.  But you can't rely on a single person to fulfill every emotional need because that's not fair.

Most chums part ways unless you live in a mega small town and are super cool staying in your birth hood.  But that's not common, so hopefully the good ones leave in geography only.  And for those, the deep roots can't be severed by a bumpy terrain or a few missed phone calls.  Yet where does this leave me in the course of regular existencing?

Friend dating.

We should all friend date as adults.  When you want good people in your life you screen out the riff-raff, no?  You do it when looking romantically, so why not for all the other best parts of a person.  We've established seconds are precious, so I want to surround myself with only the best.  And just like with lovey dating, you're deciding whether this being (or pair of beings) is an awesome addition to your life.  Wherever or however you meet, it's all the same people!  Nothing is different yet it is.  Are you compatible, enjoy similar hobbies, share a sense of humour, pose thoughtful questions, what's acceptable, what isn't, what are you comfortable with doing at sleepovers.  Do they make me better!

Social media marginally bridges the dating gap, but certainly doesn't give an entire picture.  As the face-to-face is exchanged for an online discovery of personality, our new "friend" or "follower" can lead us to believe a skewed perception of their life.  Like are you trying to convince me or yourself... That's not something I do or project, because my opinions of someone are based in fact, although I understand how it could happen.  get off my lawn.  I like to believe posts and tweets and photos are meant to enhance the personality you meet, rather than transform it.  But peoples is peoples, so if any janky shit starts being tossed, better to know & decide early.

So now there's all this noise associated with a budding friendship; maybe more so in my own head.  I only gravitate to a small number of people, so when I feel our vibes are compatible I become a bumbly goof.  Just like a lover, I want to say the right thing, make them laugh, have them enjoy me like I enjoy them.  I savor their company, but I don't want to bother them.  Should I call/not call, I want to text this funny thing but maybe that's over the line because they don't feel the same - or they don't work the same.  Shit, I'm over-dissecting again, aren't I.  Round and round until my brain says "calm down silly.  friends are simply lovers without the spectacle."  Which makes me laugh and I relax.

I want to find a happy medium between recapturing what used to be, what I truly need, and what is realistic.  I want to hear I'm not alone.  That despite work, kids, appointments, errands, and all the things, with a little effort you and me can thrive together amongst the chaos.

Or at least get to first base. ;-)

Without the Future Noise

Millions of people proudly declare they get Spring Cleaning Fever.  I suffer from something I totally made up right now called Quarterling.  If you stand in the middle of a room thinking there is too much unnecessary stuff, about 4 times a year - congratulations, you're diagnosed by non-Doctor Clark.  Not junk, but odds and ends, tidbits, snapshots of life, a neglected hobby, or that thing I forgot to put away.  It's nothing you need but something which meant enough to keep at that moment.  And hardest of all, I'm cleaning for two.

I sit and look at the items laid out before me, the ones I've held on to for "sentimental reasons" and think just get rid of it.  ALL of it.  I am nostalgic & reflectorial to a point, but not materialistic.  It weighs me down; lurks in dark corners pressing on my shoulders, like some hoarder voodoo priestess.  I smile or laugh a few seconds from seeing those 3rd grade report cards, or that goofy note I wrote, or even a menu from the restaurant with the thing.  But 99% of them go back in a box.  I have no attachment the moment that lid closes.  Maybe that says more about me in the way I process emotions.  I get that with people too, but this is not that story.

Books and music aside (because those threads are permanent) why keep something you didn't even remember you had.  We know why.  Because impressions fade and holding a tangible memory means you're still connected to it.  It won't leave you as long as you don't leave It.  Easier said than done, sure.  And understandably letting go is hard because it feels so final.  And final is scary.  And scary is unwanted.

I say take the emotion out of it and look at the facts.  Letting go breathes new life into the stagnant waters of a stuffed closet.  It washes away the skim piling upon the shelves, allowing the fresh sparkly seeds the ability to shine and bloom.  I look at the remaining pieces with a revived appreciation for what matters in my evolving life.  It becomes easier, at least for me, because with the distraction gone I can focus my attention on the upcoming years' passions, without all the noise.    

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As I continually navigate what inner neo-minimalism means to me,  I'm reminded of a holiday party Trav & I went to years ago.  The gathering celebrated the closing of another year, but also a Serbian custom this woman and her family adapted called Polaznik.  The traditional element is prosperity: yell a phrase, throw a penny, stoke the fire for sparks to bring much success or some junk.  They added the element of cleansing: go through every room/drawer/closet and if something is broken-fix it; if you can't, recycle if, and if you haven't used it in the last 12 months - donate it.

WOW. ee.  I was instantly drawn to this basis for exorcising our home of the unwanted!  It seemed to simplistically achieve everything I wanted for a continued sense of renewal.  I was home.

Although, in as much as I'd love to go full purge - I can't, at least not yet.  If I followed the rules to a tee, especially with our books & CDs, I would be off balance.  Like one chuck taylor's heel would be missing for a spell.  Acceptance of change takes time and application, and we should be doing what makes the most sense.  It doesn't have to be exactly what they do, it just needs to be us.  Our home is what we build of it and build together as we do.

This is part of what I look forward to when the clock strikes twelve, the calendar shows day 1.  A reset of life sorts, not to make resolutions per se, but to work hard towards achieving a new set of goals.  Which should evolve from year to year.  I like that it's a simple tool I can cultivate over my lifetime, setting my death up for success.  Yes even death... and that should make sense now.

I greatly appreciate my new found Polaznik roots.  Maybe you will too.