Oh indeed, terrible exes, trauma out the yin Yang….oh, I uh, I don’t think that’s what… this was about.
I have a very dusty collection of all the precious moments figurines anyone has ever given me since I was a child. Lotta sentimental value but I don’t really display them, as I am now 40 and seriously, who wants to dust all that shit you know?
I have several collections of poetry sitting on my google drive that could be submitted to a publisher. I’ve done it once or twice but, ya know, it’s just there. Gathering dust on the cloud.
I have several collections of short stories, also not sent anywhere or really done anything with. I have a massive collections of started but not finished things I was writing. “I’ll get back to it when I feel inspired” ya know?
Hell, I have a maaaaasssive collection right here, and I will soon be getting a notification I’ve written for a month straight for the first time in I don’t know how long, and that is a collection of notifications I really enjoy. And tbh, the main reason I’m not focusing on the above collections is bc I wanna focus on my Itchy Ass Blog.
In terms of physical crap, “what you own ends up owning you”. You buy shit just to rearrange it and clean it. I can’t stand it anymore. Any collection of anything collects one thing and one thing alone: dust.
In terms of intellectual property crap, I really know I can do more with it then let it sit on my Google Drive. But that’s far less about de-cluttering my drive as it is my mind, belief systems, etc.
It is far easier to chuck a bunch of crap in a trash can than overwrite lifetimes of bad programming and beliefs, although I’m coming to wonder if that’s even true. As much as I try to stay away from duality, “you either is or you ain’t” you either is submitting work and becoming a writer purely by having written and believing in yourself enough to share it, and then some more to try and get someone to pay you for it.
For any of us with collections of IP on our hard drives or clouds — the only thing really holding anyone of us back is either we don’t believe in ourselves, or we don’t want to try. The difference between me and anybody I admire is they didn’t stop til their dream came true. And for a lot of them, now they have plenty of money to buy collections of literal dumb shit bc they did something with their collection of metaphorical shit.
Thanks for stopping by! What do you think? Are you hoarding art too? What’s your weirdest collection? (My kids teeth for me. Moms and serial killers, baby)
Hit me up anywhere I am:
I bet you can guess my snap, but so help me god if I get an unsolicited Richard Nixon, I’m posting it everywhere with emojis, and I will victimize my friends by making them have to see your emoji-dick. I have a collection!
I’m on Twitter but kind of don’t really see the point anymore
And here’s some past prompts if you’d like to click around:
Daily Prompt – 1945 – My legacy
Daily Prompt – 1944 – I think this was about cold?
Daily Prompt – 1943 – my least favorite, yet it’s so true… I was asked about a broken bone and ended up babbling about a broken heart that showed I had a broken brain. Kind of the MahButtItches origin story of breaking my ass and saving my life.
Daily Prompt – 1940 – a question about the oldest thing I am wearing turned into a love letter to Wawa and a rant about shitty cheesesteaks
Sentient Dung Beetles v. Suicide
Would Jesus even be Monetized nowadays?
This is the longest consecutive blog I’ve ever written on, I’m trying to make a habit of it. A hundred some odd days and counting. Go us. ^_^