Fallen Glass Chards

The crash behind me made me cringe.

It could only mean something had gone horribly wrong. Perhaps I shouldn’t have jumped at that spider with a shoe. Maybe if I had let it live, and been more careful, I wouldn’t have bumped the bookshelf of metal and glass.

Then I wouldn’t be sweeping up the pieces five hours later.

Glass in the carpet, on my bed, on my skin, cuts on my fingertips, glass in my books and glass in my thoughts. I wondered if the tiny, nearly invisible slivers could float through my bloodstream through a cut or something, slicing me up on the inside till I bled out. Or maybe a shard would get in my eye from the bed covers. Or I’d forget to not walk barefoot and store some pain in my soles.

For a moment, I was convinced a piece of glass had somehow landed in my ear. Stay tuned…

Only 1 out of 4 shelves had shattered, no piece was left in tact. The stress of… whatever impact had caused a spiderweb of veins to snake throughout the glass. Mostly cubes of 1/4 inch glass squares throughout the room.

The first few moments were shock. Then cleaning without thinking about it. Collecting all the books that had fallen, the hair products and trinkets scattered on the floor. At first I mindlessly swept and tried not to get shredded.

Then I started looking through the books more closely. I hadn’t read some in several years now. Why was I keeping them? They needed to go.

So a paper bag for the glass and another for the books.

I hadn’t worn cologne in several years, why did I still have 3 bottles of them? More to donate.

Did I even use these hair products anymore?


Why do I still have this much stuff?

Oh, right, I stopped decluttering… stopped reducing my stuff while continuing the search for mental clarity and peace. How had I forgotten the peaceful meditation of getting rid of something?

Why did I still hang on to stuff for my fantasy self?

Why did I let myself be held back by fears and worries and…stuff!?

Glasses on, I continued to sweep, grateful that the lens would keep glass flecks from flying up into my eyes. I pondered my fears -I need to get healthy, I need to be more social, I need to be… less needy….

I moved on to my desk covered in papers and delayed decisions. Why did I have flashcards when I hadn’t used them since college? What about rechargeable batteries that I lost the charger for? Pens I’d never use, wall putty from 10 years, still unopened and probably unusable, and a tiny stapler that never worked properly.

I still had it from when I got it in high school…

Stuff. Stuff. So much stuff.

I can’t believe I’m still wading through stuff.

I had done a first major purge last winter, reducing my possessions by 65% – yeah, I did the math- and yet I seemed to have missed some things.

Or, maybe, It’s because I bought some things. Correction, I replaced some things with higher quality, better items. Quality of items had improved, broken items had been replaced, some much needed purchases had been met.

I was surprised that I missed some things to get rid off.

But maybe, I’d gotten nose blind. It was finally time to do more. Time for the second purge, or the third, whichever one it is now.

Time to resume the journey of minimalism.

It’s just too bad I had to break something I loved to figure that out.

Omelets and eggs, right? Stupid…

So I got 4 bags of things to give away/donate. And I feel like I’ve once more grasped something I’d forgotten.


Looks like I missed a piece. *sigh…


Mocha #3: Minimizing the Past

History contains the word story.

Hi story.

History translates to experience which provides framework for the “if-then”. If you touch the stove, then you will be burned. If you get a cut, then it will heal and leave a scar.

Yet history can generate fear. If someone got burned once, and that results in a permanent fear of stoves, that memory can result in a crippling fear of stoves resulting in avoidance, painful recall of the memory, and other debilitating outcomes.

When the past links to a fear, the window of life can narrow.

I sometimes wonder how much control I have to speak of the past. Do I keep it inside and pretend that it never happened? Or do I tell everyone I meet about it, like that poor woman in the film who had a nervous-breakdown?

In the end, I veer towards being a private person.

I stopped writing here for a while. For a while, I didn’t think I’d come back. But here I am, almost a year later.

Last November was a time of change- Correction, it was a shit show.

  • My “closest and dearest friend” dumped me cuz they were just too busy
  • My “mentor” became an abusive boss.

November taught me not to reach out to friends when I’m feeling down or want to just talk. November taught me that spending time supporting someone else who won’t take the time to even say hello is a waste of time. November taught me that friendships that are a one-way street are really just user-ships.

Fuck that ship.

November taught me that people with unreasonable expectations should be left behind. That when the job becomes a prison instead of a workplace, get the fuck out. November taught me that the people I was relying on and looking to for support were nothing more than an IED waiting to blow me to smithereens.

I cried like a pussy that November. I cycled between grief and rage. I experienced the depths of denial, sadness, anger, apathy, and landed in cynicism.

Remember, remember, the lessons of November…

But November wasn’t all bad:

  • I took my “fuck you” savings and left the bad work environment.
  • I moved back to my parent’s house till I got back on my feet.
  • Got my awesome dream job.
  • Learned about minimalism.

I adapted minimalism as my creed: prioritize what is important, ignore the rest.

In November, I decided to choose me. To put myself first and flip off everything else that tried to hinder me or dissuade from progressing towards a better life. I decided that no job was worth being treated like shit, that money in a paycheck wasn’t enough to buy my soul.

And I was lucky because I burned a bridge behind me only to set foot in paradise.

2018 hasn’t been that bad. I’ve moved on to better and bigger things. I can look back with a certain affection.

How small that world is now… How vapid and uninteresting. How pathetic.

How far I’ve grown.

So I shut the window on November.

It’s June. The sun is shining, I’m blasting  The Gambler by Xzibit ft Anthony Hamilton. I’ve got my life right, my mind right, my money right.

And I’m not alone.

I got quality people at my back. I listen to my instincts. I don’t ignore when I see a situation go bad. Dare I say I am in touch with my higher self? Haha, if you believe that stuff about the higher you, then yeah that’s what you could call it.

I had abandoned my sovereignty,
Abandoned the reigns to follow strange kings and queens.
Now I’ve returned to my kingdom,
Only I have dominion -and I walk beside, not behind.
I’m the knight of my own castle,
And I save myself.

Now I smile when I remember,
Those eerie dark days
Of November.

Coffee #14: Celebrating Milestones – Pt 2

Last week, I talked about my recent veer into minimalistic living. How I went (and still am going) through my closet to reduce the number of items I possess.

How did this all get started?

Ahem. “It started with a dream…” ~*MLK Jr voice

Milestone 2: I have a dream

This all started when I was watching Tiny House Nation (2014) a few weeks ago -January to be exact. Continue reading Coffee #14: Celebrating Milestones – Pt 2

Coffee #13: Celebrating Milestones – Pt 1


I want to remember and celebrate my progress thus far.

Internal dialogue says “what? you again?”

Yes. Suck it, inner dialogue.

…Indulge me.

Milestone 1 – Less is More

I’m approaching minimalism. The path to enlightenment.

No, really. My parents are hoarders (practically), a consequence of being part of the Baby Boomer/Generation X. I am told that these generations incur a symptomatic fear of loss.

Continue reading Coffee #13: Celebrating Milestones – Pt 1