My workshop has become a treasure room. I’ve got a shelf full of stuff I bought on ebay while depressed. Enough boxes, bubblewrap, and packing material for all of it. All of my artwork is out of storage (and I have no more storage units). I also bought more artwork.
Among the treasures are maybe a hundred Star Wars toys I bought. I thought I was a Star Wars collector. I liked buying the toys. But the truth is, the toys started piling up when my dad died. Like, I finished the pilot for ‘The Dragon in the Basement’ and dad died. And then, I saw these small Star Wars toys. They reminded me of a happy memory. My dad had bought me some toys from ‘Battlestar Galactica.’ I said that they should make Star Wars toys with figures the same size. My dad got really excited and said that was a wonderful idea, and he said I was a genius. The Star Wars toys I saw, Micro Galaxy Squadron, were just like I imagined. I started buying them up. One to keep in a package, one to play with. I always wanted as a kid to have two, because I loved the packaging, and hated opening the toys a little because the packaging always got ruined.
And then, last year, I realized I hadn’t played with the toys. Hadn’t displayed them. And didn’t want to. It was like a spell was broken. I was doing something for my inner child. It was just like the ebay stuff I bought. Retail therapy. But retail therapy for that inner child. Except, my inner child wasn’t that toy crazy. He loved them. But give him paper, crayons, pens, he loved art more.
Like, the artwork I collect, that’s something my inner child also dreamed about. Except, I still love it. I still have the rest of the collection and the new stuff to get on my walls, assuming I get to keep living in my apartment this year.
I have a treasure horde, and I don’t want it. I’ve been dreaming of selling the horde. So that I get the room back, and leave it just for making things for other people. But I haven’t started yet. I don’t know what’s holding me back. But it won’t be that way forever. A room of hoarded things, a dragon hoard, to let go. Each thing has a story. The stack of random vinyl records. The chicken mcnugget toys. The empty macbook pro box I bought for no reason.
Half the money to a grief charity. I already found one on ebay. Each purchase can flow back to that camp. I’m letting myself use the room to make art. But my puppets and music are packed away. The deal is I’ll return that stuff to the room as soon as I clear the dragon hoard.
Get a job. Get an agent. Finish my current books.
Let go of the hoarde. Let go.
Let’s go.