Going Full Recluse

The new desk, as a matter of necessity, had prompted a cleaning spree. I’d purchased some bins and containers to better organize things, and in the sorting process a lot of things were flagged to later disposal. A key element was simply starting the new desk with only the few things I knew I’d need. My laptop and bullet journal made the cut, of course, along with the map and my favorite pen. Space for my coffee cup was reserved, so that it was within reach but not where I’d knock it over accidentally. That was about it. Everything else could safely sit in the bookshelf, with more frequently-used items on top and the rest stowed away below.

This was, quite unconsciously, a re-commitment to minimalism. To invert Marie Kondo, the items I retained weren’t what sparked joy but the absence of clutter. The point of the desk was to improve my physical work flows. This started me on a tear to re-appraise the value of other things. Which naturally led me to my contact with the outside world in general, and social media in particular. I am, once again, quite close to going full recluse.

There’s more to it, of course, but a great deal has to do with the state of the world, my own mental health, and the achievement of my goals. You can fill in your own blanks, I’m sure. In examining what I need, and what I don’t, it was the basic realization that I’m tired of being depressed and angry that defined the problem. Twitter does not spark joy, therefore, Twitter goes into the bin. Certain commitments carry a cost, in time or spoons, that outweigh the benefit.

Going Full Recluse

In the end, really, who cares? I have a quiet and comfortable space to write, as free from distractions as I can make it. Being able to focus on what I’m doing makes me happy. Other peoples’ drama, well beyond my sphere of influence, is not my concern. As I publish things, I will tell people about them, so that I can pay the rent and continue to write. That’s all there is to it.

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