Posted by: canaryinacoalmine | July 5, 2006

Next Round

Have you ever seen a movie that ends with stills from the moments youíve just witnessed? Orchestra music begins to play as the credits begin to roll with the names of well known and unknowns litter the screen. The effect is of distance. The moments you have just witnessed recede into a foreign tale while you drain into the routine of your life and long to retreat back to the movie. As the credits role the moment grows smaller, yet clearer, into something like a tale John Lennon wrote about.

I used to think that change was caused by being horizontal and not being able to get off the couch. In the way Amanda says, your mind wills the future to write the lines in your very own play. However, Iíve been standing upright over the last several months. Sure, I had the moments I wavered and questioned if I was suffering from vertigo or if the axis of Earth was off kilter, when in fact it was my life that has become unorganized. I need routine with the ability to break free of it and feel random, to be reckless when I deem it, and not deem it whenever I can. I need to be able to line things up efficiently and make lists of items to be accomplished on a daily basis. I need structure yet want nothing to do with it and to subconsciously dare myself to follow my Bohemian routes. . . And I guess thatís when the people in your life know you better than you thought you knew yourself. They want to tell you the truth about the world but, never will because they see the tear hiding behind a smile. I suppose itís kind of like the way music rolls over your being, there are certain songs that take effect, bring you to your knees, and make you feel like youíre not alone in the world.

FYI: As much as Iíd like to deny it, there are times in our lives we are built of glass while others are of stone.

Iím just hoping I end better than when I began. The last few months have brought more change, reflection, and compartmentalizing my belongings into corrugated boxes. “It’s just stuff,” my sister would say, “toss it. It’s not a child, a friend, or a relative. Stuff. Crap really.” I’m surrounded by childhood memories I’ve held on to. And have tossed the lot of them in the trash. Do I really need the binder of notes from the 7th grade? The photos of my niece and nephew I rarely get to see (AHEM JERSEY), have been packed to keep with me. Maybe that’s the golden ticket, all these items I’ve accumulated over the years have no real importance, but those things you can carry with you is what matters most.

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Responses

  1. So, you’re doing it then? You’re packing to move to Vegas? Or am I letting my logical conclusions leap a little too far and starting a web rumor?

  2. come out come out wherever you are

  3. having moved twice inthe last two and a half years, ive cut down on the historical baggage. its in my head after all. its in my heart.

  4. LOTSA STUFF FLOATING AROUND….. IS IT ALL TRUE?

  5. Who are you already GKA?

  6. I’m ladden down with baggage…emotional and physical. Sometimes I like to blame that for my inability to get off the couch. In reality…I just need to get off my ass and do some spring cleaning. I’ve got some monsters that need to be swept out from under the bed.

  7. I’m wishing you lightness, and a being of stone.

    It’s like Simon and Garfunkel told us, “preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you.”

  8. There definately comes a time when things need to be let go. You can only carry all that stuff around with you for so long.

    Cheers,

    Scott

  9. I love this post, several parts hit close to home. I hope you find that middle ground between glass and stone.

  10. I’ve struggled with boxes of junk over the years, but I continue to hold on to them. You may not NEED them, but they sure are comforting when you’re lonely. And you’ll be amazed how much stuff you forget when there’s not some STUFF there to remind you.

    It’s worth packing up and taking. It’s who you were that makes you who you are.

  11. For a guy, I’m not sure if it’s as common to hold a “keepsake box”, but I do. Not a big one, but a little note here or there, a photo or two. Just little things to remind me of memories. Odd, yes.

    The best memories really are the ones you don’t need reminded of. The ones you can’t stuff in a cardboard box. The ones you keep in your heart for all of time. Hmm, I guess I don’t really need to hold onto that keepsake shoebox after all.


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