Mental Attic

I currently have a theory.  Since it has been so long since I’ve been a consistent journal writer, I am full of ick.  Mentally, I am the equivalent of some overloaded and terribly dusty attic.  This class is my first foray into actually opening the door and beginning the cleaning process.  So each time I sit now, I must remind myself that it is ok to write about the same few things for a bit, to write about all these dusty, moldy old broken memories, feelings and problems.  I am slowly cleaning out my mental attic page by page in my notebook.

To get this activity past my mental censor, I have made it a deal. It backs off and lets me word vomit all my attic mess into this notebook and the next notebook, I will try to write with more of a focus beyond spring cleaning. So far it is mostly working; I really do believe that I need this month or so of just opening all the attic windows and throwing things out.  Toss everything out on the lawn, in the sunshine so I can see each and every bit I've saved over the last 10 years.  See what is worth coming back and writing about, pulling apart farther or shining it up and putting it back in my mental house.

I want to make my brain attic my writing space.  I want to live up there each day for a bit, and I will make it cozy and comfortable and I will surround myself with artifacts and reminders of what I would like to explore.  I cannot have it yet though, I need to work for it.  I need to clean, dump and dust like mad.  Only then can I decorate, furnish and inhabit.