Clutter

In general, I hate clutter. When I look around and see mounds of things stacked, piled, and crammed together it makes me feel nauseous. Seriously--when I'm around it, I can be near short of breath. A deep unsettled feeling overtakes me. I don't suffer from OCD, it's more of a phobia. I'm clutterphobic. What's up with that?

Somehow, somewhere along the way I developed a fear of acquisition. Some people are afraid of cockroaches or spiders. With the exception of tiny rodents, the only other thing that frightens me is clutter. Stuff. Lots of it. Mounds of disorganised clutter. Quite frankly, I'd rather see a spider on the wall. Or a cockroach. Really. Well, only if it were very small and wingless.

A major clutter offender was my homestay mother in Japan. The mayor of the town I lived in felt that the town English teacher should spend one month in a homestay before living independently. Since it was the first time I had lived in another country on my own, the idea didn't really bother me. It was actually a wonderful experience. Wonderful, except for the clutter.

The Usuki's had a lovely two story house in the Japanese countryside. It was similar to the house pictured above. Mr. and Mrs. Usuki were in their late 40's, and had one one child called Chess, an 8-year old Shiba Inu. Inside, it was a lovely disaster. I stopped count at 5 calendars in or around the living room area. The room next to the kitchen was stacked high with books and boxes. There were two dish cabinets on the wall. There was actually a leather sofa in the living room area, but it was buried under books, magazines, and small boxes. Despite the heavy clutter however, it wasn't messy. There's a difference between organised clutter and a real mess. After a month, the clutter became invisible. By that point, I was on my way out to my own apartment.

Maybe this clutterphobia started when I was young. There was a clutter disaster in the home I grew up in. Between the kitchen and living room, there was a long counter. My brother and I sat at this counter whenever we had people over and there wasn't room at the big dining room table. This was probably the only time the counter was clear.

Whenever we didn't have company, the counter was a repository for anything and everything: my mom's calendar, packets of pictures from the previous summer, recipes, papers, mail.... I can't even remember what exactly cluttered this counter!? A whole lot of nothing, really. When I tried to clean it, I invariably tossed out something out of importance. It was an endless cycle of frustration.

I've contemplated hiring an interior designer who would create a space that is "masculine in design yet feminine in atmosphere," like this place. Ha! But seriously, I'd love to get some swanky interior designers to "minimalize" our space here, but what I'd really be doing is paying them a shitload of money to throw away our stuff!

Blog topics on the horizon:

-The "PF Chang-ification" of Bay Area restaurants
I've been writing down my thoughts on this. A curious experience in a Mountain View Shanghai restaurant convinced me of this phenomenon. I'm convinced that it is sweeping Chinese-American restaurants in the South Bay. Maybe it's not a new phenomenon, maybe it's completely obvious. Regardless, I must give voice to it once and for all!

-My thoughts on The Obake Files Ghostly Encounters in Supernatural Hawai'i
I picked this up in the Hilo Airport back in January. It was meant for light reading on the plane, but lately I've been reading a story here and there before going to bed. This might explain all the strange dreams I've been having recently...

-Back to School?
Am contemplating a return of a life of quiet hours in libraries, talking to people face-to-face in real time, no more business casual attire, etc. Pros: great reading lists, opportunity, rejuvenation, access to a swimming pool, new communities. Cons: endless reading lists, peanut butter and jelly lunches, and the inevitability of being caught talking to myself in libraries. Current status on this undertaking: Undecided and unsure, yet inspired.