I’ve never thought of myself as a hoarder, but apparently I’d been collecting knickknacks the way a rodent caches nuts for a long winter: zealously. My apartment’s “decor” resembled layers of geological strata-piles of books, magazines, clothes, old phones, and so much junk designating different epochs: The Age of the Horrible Roommate, The Years of Drinking Too Much (both before and after coming out), The Self-Help Period, The Many-Ringed Inferno of Graduate School. Had illuminated the sheer amount of hang-ups I managed to accumulate in my tiny life, packing for the move revealed the irredeemable volume of real, concrete things I somehow gathered over the years. I felt like one of those dogs you hear about on the news, lost far from home, hundreds or thousands of miles across state lines and mountainous terrain, who somehow makes the trek back years later. Yes, I was happy about our decision to move in together. In almost a single sputtering breath, I recognized the absurdity of the fears that had animated my life thus far-of being alone forever, of never finding “my person,” of being worthless and permanently dissociated from my own body, from its pleasures-and just as quickly felt those fears fall away, like long heavy ropes loosed from a ship now rushing out of the port and into the open sea. But maybe I was allowed to feel this way? And could keep doing so? Without being arrested or ridiculed? Previously, I would have dismissed such a thought, but here I was starting to believe it. Like a taboo, so my elation initially felt dangerous. Until that night, joy had always seemed to me It was almost infuriating: had I really been missing out on authentic joy throughout my life, scraping by on shriveled imitations of happiness up until this moment? All signs pointed to yes. I was shocked that a person could feel this good. I felt this giddy warmth spreading through me, and the sensation was so alarming that I choked on my wine. I can’t remember how the topic of making such a leap even came up, but suddenly we were both saying, “Yes, yes!” and spin-dancing around J’s small studio, falling over the furniture, and scream-laughing at the walls. The night J and I decided to move in together filled me with more ecstasy than I thought possible. Le Petit Dé Frederic TutenĪ Playwright in Paris Brings the Revolution Onstage by Chris Knapp Olga Tokarczuk's The Books of Jacobby Rhian Sasseen Payal Kapadia's A Night of Knowing Nothingby Arun A.K.Ĭandice Hoyes's Blue Lagoon Womanby Jasmine Dreame Wagner In fact, none of Kondo's clients have lapsed (and she still has a three-month waiting list).With detailed guidance for determining which items in your house "spark joy" (and which don't), this international bestseller featuring Tokyo's newest lifestyle phenomenon will help you clear your clutter and enjoy the unique magic of a tidy home-and the calm, motivated mindset it can inspire.Nicole Rudick's What Is Now Known Was Only Once Imagined: An (Auto)biography of Niki de Saint Phalleby Bruce LaBruce The KonMari Method, with its revolutionary category-by-category system, leads to lasting results. Most methods advocate a room-by-room or little-by-little approach, which doom you to pick away at your piles of stuff forever. |a Despite constant efforts to declutter your home, do papers still accumulate like snowdrifts and clothes pile up like a tangled mess of noodles? Japanese cleaning consultant Marie Kondo takes tidying to a whole new level, promising that if you properly simplify and organize your home once, you'll never have to do it again. |a 1 online resource (1 audio file (4hr., 50 min.)) : |b digital. |a The life-changing magic of tidying up : |b the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing |h / |c Marie Kondo. |a 1494528940 |q (sound recording : hoopla Audio Book)
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