Too Tidy?

In just three or four more weeks all my de-junking may be concluded.
All the spring cleaning will be finished.
The projects might be completed- well, there are always more ; but all of the immediate nagging but not emergency-type repairs will have been accomplished.
The house will be organized. It's a little on the scary side, actually. I've done this before - although perhaps not quite as objectively.

If I manage to keep the house cleaned up, it will be very, very clean and extremely tidy. I'm not completely sure a house so uncluttered is comfortable. Oh, it will never be spotless, like those white on white houses in magazines - not with two dogs, three cats, a bird, a turtle and fish. But definitely cleaner and tidier.

After we are finished with all those things we can get on with our usual lives - relaxing on the weekend. Maybe going away somewhere now and then.

Still, it's nice to contemplate a house that may almost be too clean - and a little spooky.

Rocky Horror Picture Show = Rave of Yesterday

I have been in a number of heated discussions with people over the last few days. People who have been talking about the massacre on Capitol Hill. People who say, "What was a 14 year-old doing at a house with adults?" "What was a 15 year-old doing at a rave?" "Should we have a curfew for teens?"

I say, no curfew. You might think the rave community seems weird from the outside, but you don't know what it's like to be part of a group encompassing all ages. I do.

My parents were extremely strict. I wasn't allowed to go on a "car date" until I was 16. I could go out with friends, yes, but not a date. My parents always checked when I spent the night at a friends. I wasn't allowed to attend parties without adult supervision, or even go to co-ed parties when I was 14. My parents weren't religious, just protective. What did I do?

I snuck out my window. A lot. I was never caught. My parents never suspected. The punishment would have been bad. It didn't matter, out the window I would go; the night was mine. I met my friends. I met boys a lot older than me. I rode in cars with people I didn't know. It was a risky time. I was VERY lucky I didn't get raped, crashed, or even killed.

When I was 15, my best friend, who was a year older, took me to see the midnight movie"Rocky Horror Picture Show". The first time I got in trouble - ALTHOUGH I had told my parents it was a midnight movie, they didn't realize I meant a movie starting at midnight. The cops were called.

Once they calmed down, and realized I was fine, and realized I had told them exactly the truth, they decided it was okay for me to go again. Of course, they had to meet the friends I went with and their parents.

Our group of friends went "Rocky" a lot. We dressed up in makeup and costumes. We got to know the other regular "Rocky" go-ers. We had a lot of fun. Our group ranged in age from me, to a 19 year-old. Sure, most of the people who went were between 17 and 22 or 23, but there were quite a few younger, and quite a few older. Afterward we would go to Denny's and chill for awhile. Wait for the drunks to get off the road before we headed home. Have breakfast. Chill.

If we had known anyone who lived nearby and had been invited to their house afterward, we would have gone, some of us. Older than us? Not a big deal. No, I wouldn't have gone alone, but with friends, or a friend especially if THEY knew them well, it would have been totally fine. Our love for "Rocky", for whatever reason, united us, gave us something in common. Always good to get to know people who are into the same things you are.

As far as substance abuse goes, it happened. We were teenagers. We were immortal. Some of us did drugs. Some of us didn't. Some of us drank. Most of us didn't. Most of our friends were at keggers in the woods while we were at the theatre.

I didn't sneak out my window anymore. I didn't need to. I had something to do at night on the weekends and people who accepted me for who I was. My parents knew where I was and I had a great time.

Was it a community accepted by most of mainstream America? Not Even Close. But we accepted everyone. If they were there to see the movie, they were one of us.

That seems to be the message of the Rave community too. The acceptance. The mixing of ages. The watching out for each other - that part even more so from the Rave community.


I think all the backlash against the rave community is uncalled for. When people start ranting, I say, "Hey, I was part of a group like that." Of course, things were different then. Just like they were in the 60's, and the 50's, and the 30's, and the 20's.

Teenagers have been sneaking out forever. Far better they attend events where drugs and alcohol aren't allowed, that have security. Where they can be with their friends, and be as safe as teenagers will ever be.

The community has nothing to do with the tragedy. I wish people could separate them.

Capitol Hill Murders

Why?

Sadness. Sympathy. Disgust.

Yesterday morning seven people died in my city. Six of them were victims of the seventh person, who killed himself when confronted by a police officer.

I am so sad for the families and friends of the lost. The media is making it even more tragic, as they try and coerce witnesses to talk to them, and make the whole thing into a feeding frenzy of breaking news stories.

Seeing the candlelight vigil made my heart sore.

The media is, of course, linking the killings to the fact all the victims were at a rave earlier. The house where the killings took place was having an after-party; a place to hang out, and wait for the bus, or just wind down from the party itself. All fans of listening, or dancing, to techno music. The media likes to play up something to blame; just as they do whenever someone goes nuts. If music is involved, it makes a handy scapegoat. Just as handy a scapegoat is the fact that at raves there are drugs and possible alcohol consumption, no matter what promoters do to remove it as a factor.

Just like there are at most concerts, parties, dance venues.

But it doesn't sound like any of those things was a factor in the killings. It sounds as if the killer just went nuts. Maybe a long time ago; maybe he planned it for awhile - or maybe he just snapped. It doesn't really matter.

The fact is something like this could have happened anywhere. It could have happened at a mall, like it did here recently. This guy could have decided that anyone who shopped at DEPARTMENT STORE X needed to die. It could have happened at a school. It could have happened any place where people gather.

If it had been at a Goth gathering, the media would really be going nuts. If it had been at a hip-hop party, would we be seeing the huge amount of media attention? I wonder. If it had been at a square dance, or a rock concert, or a club? If the victims had been 40-something country music listeners? If they had been nursing home residents?

The fact that seven people are dead is, and should be, just sadness for our entire community. They were at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's also tragic that someone didn't realize the killer needed help.
Sympathy is all I can feel for anyone involved - the families, the friends, the innocent.
Disgust - at the media, and even at myself, because I want to know - even as I am disgusted by the coverage, I still am compelled to read the stories.
Because, like everyone else, I want a reason, an explanation for such a terrible tragedy.

Why did this happen?

JOY

Spring is on the way!

At least where I live. Plants are budding, flowers blooming. The smell of green growing things and wet dirt has arrived. The other morning I had to stop for a moment on my trudge to the bus and listen to the birds singing.

Spring gives me a joyful feeling; the world coming alive again. Well, okay, the weeds have been alive all winter- but the change from spring to winter makes even the rainiest day seem a little more cheerful.

The singing, budding, spring-scented day made me think about other things that make me joyful. I can think of a lot. Not just every-day happy, but joyful.

The sound of rain at night.
Writing when I'm "on a roll". Writers know what I mean, even if they call it something different.
Playing music.
Playing music with "The Saint".
Unexpectedly discovering a new book by a favorite author.
Reading a truly excellent book.
Accomplishing a goal - especially the more difficult and challenging goals.
Seeing wild animals in their natural homes. Yes, even a lowly, cheeky chipmunk makes me joyful. Even bugs, well, sometimes.
New Crayons. There is something optimistic about a brand new box, I don't care how old you are.
The classic and cliche gorgeous sunset on the ocean.
Big windy storms.
"The Saint." Okay, maybe not so joyful when he forgets to replace the toilet paper on the roller, but most of the time; joyful.
The animals who live with me.


I could go on forever, but I won't. The things that make me joyful range from the sublime to the utterly silly, just as it should be I think.

(Just think how joyful I will be when I finally get my de-junking finished. Ha ha.)

Taking A Break (this weekend)

This weekend I took a break from de-junking. I was noticing my attitude was starting to get surly. Well, foul would be a better description. All work, and no play and blah blah.
While I didn't EXACTLY take the break I was planning on, it wasn't bad. Friday I was off, so I worked hard-core. I got my bedroom done - except for the extensive book re-arranging and weeding that will take me awhile. Throwing away books, especially MY books is really hard for me. But, unless I remembered it well, or decided I wanted to read it again, out it went. Either to the "Friends of the Library" box if it isn't too elderly, or to the recycle bin. I also got the dining room finished. So, I'm down to three rooms - the remnants of Ken's room, the rec. Room, and the dreaded kitchen.
The rest of this weekend I just chilled, well, mostly.

I am not quite as obsessed with it as I was; mainly because the hardest part (the back bedrooms) are almost over. I have gone through both the other rooms in the last 2-3 years, so it really won't be so bad.

I haven't given anything away that I will miss. I might have given away or thrown out usable things, but nothing vital. It is feeling pretty good right now, to NOT have so much stuff.

My goals for next week are for the stuff that needs to go into the storage shed to get there, and to make significant headway on the rec. Room.
I know, YAWN, what a boring blog. It will get better soon, I promise.

Looking Ahead

The de-junking continues. My house is not very neat at the moment. There are boxes everywhere. A narrow aisle winds from the front door to the back bedrooms. The guest bed is piled high with miscellaneous junk to sift through, box up, and organize. The porch is stacked with items to go either to the storage shed, or the dumpster.

The kitchen is relatively clear, but the counter where junk collects is quite filled. The dining room and rec room are equally full of boxes - the dining room with things to go to charity, the rec room with empty boxes waiting to be filled. If you were just to walk in, you would think; "Wow, these people are either moving or pigs."

However, it looks better than it did a week ago. While some piles are higher, most are smaller. I'm down to three rooms left; dining room, rec room, and the dreaded kitchen. The kitchen is the worst. Even though I went through a few years ago, and got rid of 25 extra spatulas, at least 15 large wooden spoons, there is still enough kitchen ware to set up an extra kitchen.

In spite of all this, I feel by next weekend, or maybe the weekend after I will be able to see real, concrete progress. Shelves will be up. I think my room will be finished and the Saint's room will be cleaned out, and ready for organization. Anyone who saw the Saint's room in the not too distant past would gasp in amazement, even with quite a bit left to do there.

At first I thought I would be de-junking until Memorial Day, but I actually think it will be done sometime in April, even if we do take a weekend off.

The things I am keeping in mind;

The things we own, or were given by loved ones are not the people. It's the memory we want to keep. I have personally followed the good advice of taking pictures of something I don't want to keep, but have fond memories of.

Beware of redundancy. Two staplers - okay - 15 staplers - why?

If it's worth something - get rid of it anyway, unless it holds more than slight sentimental value.

I can see the end of the road ahead, and while it goes up a mountain, it's still - finished. I will have my house back. A neater, more organized house. Useable, loved, and wanted items will all still be here . We'll just be able to find them.