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Organizing
for The Big Move I've been trying to get organized for years. I don't know what it's like on the other side of organized because I've never been there. Ever. And it's starting to get ridiculous. Every time I move from one apartment to another though, I get really close. But by then it's too late. Because the move itself always disrupts my life to such a degree that it throws me back into a state of disorganized. I'm moving from Florida to California in about two weeks and all I've been doing these days is going through all my possessions and making hundreds of tiny little decisions about every single thing that I own. Every little scrap of paper suddenly becomes so interesting. "Do I really need that ticket stub? No. I'll throw it away. Well, wait a minute, maybe I should keep it. What if Loggins and Messina ever get back together? Where's that box?" Sometimes it's easier to not decide and just create a new box. You end up stirring up your whole life. All of that old emotional baggage gets poked by every little piece of paper, every phone number, every old business card, every video tape, CD and album. Albums are getting tougher and tougher to hold onto with every move but somehow I just can't get rid of them. There's no way. As soon as I get rid of one, I know I'm going to want to hear it. And then there are all the books. It's really too bad that I don't read anymore. That causes a lot of guilt. I try to read. I still buy books. But I don't read. Those days are long gone. I'm starting to accept it. But it's important to keep all the books so that people will think that I still read. My two VCR's cause a problem too. I think I've actually avoided moves in the past because I didn't feel like figuring out all over again how to hook up two VCR's. I like having tape to tape capability and it would be a real shame to let a silly little relocation prevent me from doing that. I finally took a Polaroid of the back of my cable box, TV, VCR quagmire just to have a record of how it's all hooked up. Then I put the picture in a box. So right now I'm as close to organized as I've ever been. And I'm kickin' myself. Why couldn't I have done this just once during the past fourteen years that I lived here in Florida? I probably could have been enjoying my life all this time. This whole concept of knowing where everything is opens up a whole new world. Someday I think I'll try to trick myself. I'll make a decision to move, go through all the basic steps of moving and then at the last minute decide not to. But by then I'll have everything in nice neat organized piles. I am literally going to be moving through the mail. Everything I own is being put in boxes and being shipped to LA. The fact that I can do that makes me very happy and it makes me very sad. I should have a lot more stuff than this. Not one piece of furniture that I own is worth keeping. And now I'm finding out that there is an upside to that. It makes me very mobile. When I get to LA it might take me a month to find a place so I have a series of couches, floors and guest rooms lined up. It's tough enough living out of a suitcase. For the month of June I'll probably be living out of my boxes. But this time I
swear it's going to be different. That's what I like about relocating
to an entirely new town. It's easy to project the idealized version
of yourself onto a clean slate and fantasize about how great your life
will be. I picture myself living in a nice apartment in LA, joining
a gym, waking up early, checking e-mails, taking a leisurely stroll
down to the corner to get the paper and a cup of coffee, making a few
phone calls, booking a few high paying gigs, picking up a nice little
freelance writing assignment, diligently hitting the open mics and working
out a ton of new material, writing a screenplay, selling a screenplay
and making a lot of money. But usually, a clean slate in this life lasts
about a week and then all hell breaks loose. Once the distractions kick
in, you are no longer seizing the day; you are now running in full retreat
from the day. Every day ends up being a mad scramble. At least that's
how it's been in Florida. And I actually think that that's going to
change once I get to California. close this window to return to the Tom Ryan writing page SHECKY!
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