Things
I should really learn to be a lot more ruthless in weeding stuff out, paring things down, keeping it spare. I need to learn how to discard things, not to have a kind of weird separation anxiety, thinking always of a just-in-case.
I have the chronic inability to part with stuff I have accumulated over the years. My train ticket stubs from my 2002 Easter Czech cycling trip, the signature purple carnets of the Parisian metro from winter of 2003, San Francisco-an maps and leaflets from my 2004 summer roadtrip. I keep them all because I want to always keep a piece of the places I've been to with me. In random moments when I come across them, usually when I'm digging through my mountains of belongings for something I require urgently, I would feel a rush of irritation at a random piece of scrap that is in my way. But as I pause to take a look at the offensive piece of debris, wondering why I haven't yet binned it, I realise that it is - that Czech map, that Parisian ticket stub, that Yellowstone National Park Guide - and for a magic moment, all irritation melts away. I smile, as I recall those moments - that fairy-tale road through a snowy pine forest in the undulating Czech countryside, sitting down by a random roadside to dig into cans of luncheon meat, the neverending little Czech towns with their ubiquitous little churches. Or I recall Mai and I squeezing through the Metro gates in Paris in order to save on carnets, the wintry cold Parisian streets and the winds whipping at my face, having sashimi on the Left Bank. And a wonderful "last summer", filled, in my mind, with gorgeous food, laughter, adventure, and many dreams-come-true. And in the midst of my daily numb rush, I pause for that heartbeat, to "stand and stare", and remember why is it I am alive. Why everything is worthwhile. So I will choose to store that bit of string, that scrap of paper, that little tag - all the small things that remind me where I have come from, what is important in life, and that life is not confined to whatever conditions I am stuck with for the moment. They are my instantaneous portals to a richer, happier world.
But the point was... that I really need to be more ruthless. I need to keep a grip on my life and not let the jungle creep in. Those things which have the weight of treasured memories should still be preserved - however, I have to learn to be far more selective in my sentiments.
As for the rest, I should learn to let go. I suspect that my desire to hoard stems from some childhood anxiety that has made me accumulate to get a sense of security.
It is late. I'd write more, but I am in a mix of muted fury (if there is such a thing) and plain sleep-headache irritation.
I have the chronic inability to part with stuff I have accumulated over the years. My train ticket stubs from my 2002 Easter Czech cycling trip, the signature purple carnets of the Parisian metro from winter of 2003, San Francisco-an maps and leaflets from my 2004 summer roadtrip. I keep them all because I want to always keep a piece of the places I've been to with me. In random moments when I come across them, usually when I'm digging through my mountains of belongings for something I require urgently, I would feel a rush of irritation at a random piece of scrap that is in my way. But as I pause to take a look at the offensive piece of debris, wondering why I haven't yet binned it, I realise that it is - that Czech map, that Parisian ticket stub, that Yellowstone National Park Guide - and for a magic moment, all irritation melts away. I smile, as I recall those moments - that fairy-tale road through a snowy pine forest in the undulating Czech countryside, sitting down by a random roadside to dig into cans of luncheon meat, the neverending little Czech towns with their ubiquitous little churches. Or I recall Mai and I squeezing through the Metro gates in Paris in order to save on carnets, the wintry cold Parisian streets and the winds whipping at my face, having sashimi on the Left Bank. And a wonderful "last summer", filled, in my mind, with gorgeous food, laughter, adventure, and many dreams-come-true. And in the midst of my daily numb rush, I pause for that heartbeat, to "stand and stare", and remember why is it I am alive. Why everything is worthwhile. So I will choose to store that bit of string, that scrap of paper, that little tag - all the small things that remind me where I have come from, what is important in life, and that life is not confined to whatever conditions I am stuck with for the moment. They are my instantaneous portals to a richer, happier world.
But the point was... that I really need to be more ruthless. I need to keep a grip on my life and not let the jungle creep in. Those things which have the weight of treasured memories should still be preserved - however, I have to learn to be far more selective in my sentiments.
As for the rest, I should learn to let go. I suspect that my desire to hoard stems from some childhood anxiety that has made me accumulate to get a sense of security.
It is late. I'd write more, but I am in a mix of muted fury (if there is such a thing) and plain sleep-headache irritation.
2 Comments:
haha....i think we are so alike in this sense. So much junks in the thousands of boxes under the bed, above the cupboard, on top of the shelves that are just there for pyschological comfort... Yes, we have to b more ruthless!
By
vyanne, at 8:57 AM
Me thinks you need a scrap book or photo album (those that come with a sticky page) and put all those things in. Just remember to write down why they are important to you now though. 5 years down the road, you'd probably forget. Then you'd be left with that little mysterious tag that you somehow preserved. *wink*
By
meeloop, at 3:53 PM
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