seven year bitch

A photo posted by sarah mccarry (@sarahmccarry) on

Today's the seven-year anniversary of my move to New York--seven years!!! I know, I don't believe it either--and according to Susan Miller, the luckiest day of my year, but the jury's still out on that one.

A few days ago I went into a deep k-hole of productivity blogs, emerging with a "bullet journal" and a newfound awareness of something called the "Konmari System," which promises a serene, clutter-free, and restful abode in the event one is able to adhere to its various tenets; if one is also to embrace the testimonial of a number of before-and-after "Konmari" pictorial articles, significantly more expensive furniture than the furniture one owned previously appears as if by magic as soon as one has properly "Konmari"-d one's possessions. Unfortunately there are four hundred people ahead of me in the New York Public Library hold queue for the "Konmari" book, so its exact precepts remain a mystery, but as far as I can tell they consist mainly of Girl, Throw That Shit Out, Also Roll Your Socks. I already roll my socks, so yesterday I threw some shit out.

I have a lot of issues with the rhetoric of self-help and manifestation (not to be confused, I don't think, with infestation), which is usually spouted by upper middle-class white folks for whom "budgeting" consists of "giving up" a five-dollar-a-day latté habit in order to save for a vacation in some tropical paradise whose swanky hotels are built on the sites of genocides. It's a lot easier to "manifest" shit if you're a white girl from money. But the threefold law predates at least the Internet, and as dipshitty as it may sound to the skeptical reader, throwing that shit out felt like more than just making space; it felt like freeing myself from all the detritus of the years before this one that I've been carrying around to no good effect. Old lives and old loves and a lot of bits of paper I don't need; the catharsis of finally releasing all those odds and ends back into the universe its own kind of magic. I feel lighter. I'm still here. Tonight I'm going to buy myself a glass of nice champagne and toast a lot of work and a lot of luck and making room for more good things to come into my life. Maybe when I get home the universe will have bestowed upon me my new Konmari-manifested bookcases. I'll let you know.