Cleaning House

It is a rare occasion that I do a thorough cleaning of my room, yet alone my closet and under my bed. However, since this is the possibly the last time I will be moving out of my house (my home home, in Anaheim), and because my mom told me to, I've undertaken a cleaning for the ages in my room this past week in preparation for my move. I had put off cleaning my room for the whole summer, not because I was lazy (well, maybe a little bit), but because it meant going through the contents of my closet and deciding what stays and what goes. And by goes, I mean goes in the trash/Goodwill. Ya know.. GOES. And considering my attachment to material objects is higher than a normal human being, this was no easy task. Indeed, my closet had become a refuge for all the stuff that I didn't want to get rid of in previous cleanings but had no real use for, and the Day of Reckoning had finally come. This of course resulted in multiple trips to Memory City, making the task at hand take much longer than it should have. Yet I knew this part was inevitable, and so I began.


Why is it so hard to let go of these nonliving, nonuseful things? I had a lot of time to think about that while cleaning, and essentially, for me at least, I think it's because letting go of those things was like letting go of a younger, simpler part of myself. Once I threw away something, I knew there was no getting it back, and a lot of the stuff in my closet I had held onto for years and years because I just couldn't bear to throw it away at the time. And the time after that and the time after that. I guess when it comes down to it, the act of throwing something away to me seems like a declaration that that object, and the memories and emotions that go with it, just aren't that important anymore. And that's what made cleaning so emotionally difficult - I didn't want to let go of those memories, of those objects that at one time or another represented something so meaningful in my life. It's like I could hear my past self questioning - how could you throw this away?? Didn't this mean something to you?? Perhaps what scared me most is that once thrown away, those memories may eventually be even forgotten given enough time. And in a time when my job, relationships, and future are still so uncertain, I guess holding on to those things meant more than I had realized - it meant holding onto something that was a concrete and real part of who I was.


But alas, in the name of space, a lot of stuff had to go. Toys, cards, elementary school notes, and clothes, among other things. For the first time, I tossed out a piece of Unicamp clothing. Mind you, Unicamp clothing makes up literally about 65% of my wardrobe (sad?), and these sweatpants I threw out had a permanent dirt stain on the back that made it look like a poop explosion had just happened. I never wear them anymore, but they nevertheless still had a sentimental value to them. Another victim was the pillow I had since I was a baby. Again, the pillow was pretty much nonfunctional - it was dirty and had tears everywhere - but it was one of the few remnants I had from when I was a baby. Not much is left from that era now.


Despite the loads and loads of stuff that got thrown away, in the end there were some things that I could just NOT bring myself to throw away, and these things got to stay. A few examples are: some elementary school reports/projects, a handful of Hot Wheels cars (only my favorites got to stay this time :/ ), all my Pokemon cards (I mean, come on), all my Unicamp happy notes and memorabilia, my drawings and comics I made when I was small, and my video games. A lot of people sell their video game stuff, but I honestly just can't part with them for some reason (weird?). Oh, and these stuffed animals:

I call these guys the Survivors; they are all that remain of the zoo I used to have that took up about half my bed space when I was small. They've just made it so far.. I don't think it would be fair to give them up now. :P