Pandora's Filing Cabinet

My usual method of dealing with past items is typically to file it. Indeed, I have two filing cabinets filled with old papers, documents, records, letters and such. Each document is in an appropriately labelled folder and each file folder is sorted in chronological order; archived files are cycled to the bottom drawers while current and/or active files are in the upper drawers.

It is said that all good things come to an end. For me, they are simply filed.

Alas, all bad things are also filed.

With cuyahogarvr coming to live with us in a couple of months, I'm trying to empty one filing cabinet so he has space for his files. Thinking that easily half of my files are greater than seven years old, it seemed like an easy project. I was wrong.

I had underestimated the strength of emotions attached to some things, and it's kicking my ass.

Tossing old telephone bills and bank statements was relatively easy: I have no connections to these.

I also tossed all of my GALA Choruses files, all of my Lesbian & Gay Chorus files, all of my Singing Out files and more. These ones were harder to dump; while these organizations and I have gone our separate ways, I had some good times with them in the past.

The hardest files were work and education related. I found the letter offering employment at the University of Toronto back in 1990, along with performance evaluations, contract renewals and ultimately my letter of resignation. I felt nostalgic for those happy years, even if I can't relive them.

I found my grade transcripts from the University of Waterloo and University of Toronto. I regret not finishing my degree back then, even though I did finish both my BSc and MSc here in Maryland so many years later.

I found my course notes, research materials and graduation certificates for nearly all of my American Sign Language Courses (almost a dozen). Despite the progress I made, I never made particularly consistent use of it and I never obtained interpreter certification.

So many of these files just seem to be prickly reminders of unfinished business. I can toss the paper but the cloud of failure lingers. At this moment, I feel like I've become proficient and adept in almost nothing, professionally or personally: I'm adequate in a number of fields but lacking depth in all of them. There's nothing quite like a review of the documented past to destroy any illusions of adequacy.

Of course, I should have seen this coming. Even if one only commits one catastrophic mistake per year, they add up as one stumbles towards middle-age.

The final insult: my poor little paper shredder simply isn't up to the task of reducing this vast pile of paper to confetti. I'll have to make several trips to the office in 50 lb increments for industrial-scale shredding.

Pandora's Filing Cabinet

My usual method of dealing with past items is typically to file it. Indeed, I have two filing cabinets filled with old papers, documents, records, letters and such. Each document is in an appropriately labelled folder and each file folder is sorted in chronological order; archived files are cycled to the bottom drawers while current and/or active files are in the upper drawers.

It is said that all good things come to an end. For me, they are simply filed.

Alas, all bad things are also filed.

With cuyahogarvr coming to live with us in a couple of months, I'm trying to empty one filing cabinet so he has space for his files. Thinking that easily half of my files are greater than seven years old, it seemed like an easy project. I was wrong.

I had underestimated the strength of emotions attached to some things, and it's kicking my ass.

Tossing old telephone bills and bank statements was relatively easy: I have no connections to these.

I also tossed all of my GALA Choruses files, all of my Lesbian & Gay Chorus files, all of my Singing Out files and more. These ones were harder to dump; while these organizations and I have gone our separate ways, I had some good times with them in the past.

The hardest files were work and education related. I found the letter offering employment at the University of Toronto back in 1990, along with performance evaluations, contract renewals and ultimately my letter of resignation. I felt nostalgic for those happy years, even if I can't relive them.

I found my grade transcripts from the University of Waterloo and University of Toronto. I regret not finishing my degree back then, even though I did finish both my BSc and MSc here in Maryland so many years later.

I found my course notes, research materials and graduation certificates for nearly all of my American Sign Language Courses (almost a dozen). Despite the progress I made, I never made particularly consistent use of it and I never obtained interpreter certification.

So many of these files just seem to be prickly reminders of unfinished business. I can toss the paper but the cloud of failure lingers. At this moment, I feel like I've become proficient and adept in almost nothing, professionally or personally: I'm adequate in a number of fields but lacking depth in all of them. There's nothing quite like a review of the documented past to destroy any illusions of adequacy.

Of course, I should have seen this coming. Even if one only commits one catastrophic mistake per year, they add up as one stumbles towards middle-age.

The final insult: my poor little paper shredder simply isn't up to the task of reducing this vast pile of paper to confetti. I'll have to make several trips to the office in 50 lb increments for industrial-scale shredding.