So much of this blog is based on loss, a greater sense of emptiness than forgetfulness. But I've never really touched on the concept of losing something on purpose. You might not think it's possible.
But it is. I'm doing it right now. I've spent the last two days at home going through all my... stuff. All my crap. All my life. Some people's lives can be identified and remembered in diaries and photographs and shared songs. You listen to an old mixed CD and hear laughter within the music, you see a road trip. You relive memories in pictures and scribbled gossip.
My life is recognized in all of these, as expected, yet there is so much more that I find to be part of my life as well. As an artist, I have probably drawn and painted and sketched thousands of pictures. And yes, I have also made things out of clay and fabric and noodles. But I am most defined by what is on paper. Today I went through a portfolio box of drawings, some made by my brothers before I was even born. I drew a farm being attacked by a giant chicken, and an Iroquois Indian Chief standing with his daughter. I painted a mountain landscape in three different color schemes. I sketched a teapot. And then I filed through several notebooks, filled with old poems and prayers and "note to self"s.
I took pictures of a lot of things. And when that was over, I went through everything a second time, and more than half of it it now resides in the recycling bin in the garage.
I am choosing what I want to remember. I am disregarding the parts of myself that are too blatantly selfish or bitter or ignorant, the pieces of Katie that didn't listen to God and the thoughts I held onto which had no merit.
You might wonder why exactly I'm doing this. Why the sudden need to purge myself of drawings I made in 1997? Why am I ripping apart a notebook from 9th grade?
Because in 113 days I'm going to be married and I do not have the physical room for all these objects, nor do I have the mental space to hold all the memories attached to them.
And that was just today. I went through Barbies yesterday. (all but one of which will be sold at a garage sale this summer.) Tomorrow... books.