What I don't need

"Write about.....what you don't need"
I don't need all these old clothes in my closet. Who am I kidding? I am not ever going to wear that silk blouse from the 1990's for goodness' sake. I loved the blouse, I wore it often, it slipped out of my repertoire, it went out of fashion, and there it sits. I keep thinking I will wear it again, but the truth is, I haven't worn it in over ten years. I don't need it, clearly. Even though I have winnowed out much clothing periodically, certain items keep clinging, most likely because of some sentimental attachment.
But now is a time to ask myself: do I need this in my life? If the answer is, no I don't need it, then out it must go.
I don't need those clothes, and as a matter of fact, that lack of need is a clarion call: simplify! purge! cast off the old to make room for the new! Let those old pieces of fabric (for that is really all they are) be a metaphor for your whole life, Meredith! Make room for some new clothes!
OK, here I go!

I Don't Want to Hear It

(Note: I am back to taking inspiration from "Thinking About Memoir" which has page after page of instructions to "Write two pages about....")
I don't want to hear about all your problems, if you don't also say what you are going to do about them. I don't want to hear about every little thing that bugs you. I don't want to hear that you can't, or won't, or don't want to. I don't want to hear that you are sad, depressed, frustrated, anxious, worried, angry or jealous. I don't want to hear that I have any negative effect on you whatsoever.
I don't want to hear anything at all about all the bad stuff that goes on in the world. I don't want to hear about murder, war, exploitation, elder abuse, famine, pollution, political corruption, child molestation, or global warming. I don't want to hear about how television and the internet are ruining us. I don't want to hear any rap, heavy metal or hip hop music booming out of the car next to me at the stop light.
I don't want to hear any of it. But I do. It enters me and runs around like crazy, trying to find a home in my psyche. It does not find a welcome home, and that only makes it crazier. If only there were a filter for all of this stuff, a protective barrier to keep it all away. I crave silence. If I could only have enough silence, I could start to hear my own self think. Then maybe I could figure out what to do with my life. But all the noise keeps coming at me. All the noise drowns out the silence, until I can barely breathe, let alone think. But the dictate is to keep on going, in spite of the cacaphony.
This is not a complaint. Because I KNOW you don't want to hear that.

New Hair, Do

My hair is now shorter. Not quite short enough, but it is getting there. I already feel lighter and freer. It is all a matter of attitude, yet the outward manifestation of this desire is certainly pleasing to me.
My new do does it.

What's Wrong?

Why is it that it is always in retrospect that I like a haircut that I had? For the longest time, I have not liked my haircuts. I can't even remember the last time I truly liked my hair. But then, when I see a photo of myself, I think, gee that was not such a bad haircut. I am starting to think that it's not my hair, it's me. What if I just plain don't really like myself? The haircut is only an outer manifestation. It is not really all that important in and of itself.
Here is my secret: I want to cut off all of my hair. I want a really short haircut, and I don't want to have to deal with it. But I am afraid. I am afraid of looking too old, too mannish, not attractive. There, I've said it. Now I get to publicize it, see it on my blog, and then, and only then can I laugh at my own vanity.
Just in time for my haircut appointment on Thursday.
Here goes.