I've been going through a lot of boxes lately. So far I've cleared out quite a few boxes of garbage, and given quite a few things to Good Will. But there are a few things that have come across my eyes that I've... well... that have caused hesitation.
I'm not sure how most people are, but for me, I can be a pretty sentimental kind of guy. No, I don't cry over anything, but I do tend to hold on to some ridiculous things. I only say ridiculous because you'll probably find it to be ridiculous; receipts, ticket stubs, small notes, letters. Basically I've found small memory boxes. Memory boxes for me involve little reminders of a relationship I was once in. Sometimes it includes birthday cards from family, thank you notes from sisters, or written frustrations about my life at that time to myself. But as I continue to dig through the box, I'm slowly reminded of random memories of a relationship that once was. I've come across a few pictures, a few cards, a poem from one, a receipt of a Cirque Du Soleil (my first ever!) trip from another, receipts of a trip to Yosemite, ticket stubs to some movies, the list goes on and on. Not to mention the old cell phones that carry pictures and text messages... so many text messages... so many!
It's amazing to me. So many memories. The smallest thing can trigger me and send me back in time. I remember this poem, I remember that woman, that feeling, both bad and good. I remember the beginning, and the end. I remember the perfume. For some reason I ALWAYS remember the perfume. I'm like a dog, I'm about as hairy as one, sheesh. I move on to another visual aid and get thrown into a whole other world of memories, more rich and vivid then before (probably cause of the recentness of it). Loads and loads of smiles. I come to discover myself smiling in brief intervals as I peruse the paper memories, and my brow furrows.
Has my past been reduced to just a Vans shoe box? If someone was to go through all my boxes, what would they discover? Well, for starters I can tell you that they would start to think I was a child; 5 boxes of Nerf guns and ammo, about 8 boxes of video game equipment, 4 boxes of comic books.
So what's left? Hats. Lots of hats.
So now I'm an adult who can't let go of his childhood, and pretends to be other people by wearing different hats. There's your psycho-analytic mumbo-jumbo for the day. No. I think the real information about who I am comes from those few boxes that go completely ignored. The "shoe boxes".
I carry a lot of memories with me. Usually most of the past relationship reminders are discarded before a new one starts, but of course there are always those few scraps of memories that stick around. It's unfortunate that after I'm long gone and no longer of this world, all that is left are paper memories. But as I exist, every moment I've lived and breathed, every relationship I've been in, love or lost, sad or happy, good or bad, have formed me to who I am today. Can anyone else say that?
What happens when someone refuses to allow a relationship, past or present, change and grow them? Is that even possible? I believe that's the utter definition of being resistant to change; refusal to acknowledge change in oneself due to the occurrence of a relationship. I'm proud to say that I have not experienced that. My "shoe box" only contains grains of sand from a time past, and not the results of the outcome from those grains resting.
Just a random thought of the week. I'm sure next week will be filled with more excitement.
So...
What's in your "shoe box"? Have you resisted change? Have you changed for worse, or the better?
I'm not sure how most people are, but for me, I can be a pretty sentimental kind of guy. No, I don't cry over anything, but I do tend to hold on to some ridiculous things. I only say ridiculous because you'll probably find it to be ridiculous; receipts, ticket stubs, small notes, letters. Basically I've found small memory boxes. Memory boxes for me involve little reminders of a relationship I was once in. Sometimes it includes birthday cards from family, thank you notes from sisters, or written frustrations about my life at that time to myself. But as I continue to dig through the box, I'm slowly reminded of random memories of a relationship that once was. I've come across a few pictures, a few cards, a poem from one, a receipt of a Cirque Du Soleil (my first ever!) trip from another, receipts of a trip to Yosemite, ticket stubs to some movies, the list goes on and on. Not to mention the old cell phones that carry pictures and text messages... so many text messages... so many!
It's amazing to me. So many memories. The smallest thing can trigger me and send me back in time. I remember this poem, I remember that woman, that feeling, both bad and good. I remember the beginning, and the end. I remember the perfume. For some reason I ALWAYS remember the perfume. I'm like a dog, I'm about as hairy as one, sheesh. I move on to another visual aid and get thrown into a whole other world of memories, more rich and vivid then before (probably cause of the recentness of it). Loads and loads of smiles. I come to discover myself smiling in brief intervals as I peruse the paper memories, and my brow furrows.
Has my past been reduced to just a Vans shoe box? If someone was to go through all my boxes, what would they discover? Well, for starters I can tell you that they would start to think I was a child; 5 boxes of Nerf guns and ammo, about 8 boxes of video game equipment, 4 boxes of comic books.
So what's left? Hats. Lots of hats.
So now I'm an adult who can't let go of his childhood, and pretends to be other people by wearing different hats. There's your psycho-analytic mumbo-jumbo for the day. No. I think the real information about who I am comes from those few boxes that go completely ignored. The "shoe boxes".
I carry a lot of memories with me. Usually most of the past relationship reminders are discarded before a new one starts, but of course there are always those few scraps of memories that stick around. It's unfortunate that after I'm long gone and no longer of this world, all that is left are paper memories. But as I exist, every moment I've lived and breathed, every relationship I've been in, love or lost, sad or happy, good or bad, have formed me to who I am today. Can anyone else say that?
What happens when someone refuses to allow a relationship, past or present, change and grow them? Is that even possible? I believe that's the utter definition of being resistant to change; refusal to acknowledge change in oneself due to the occurrence of a relationship. I'm proud to say that I have not experienced that. My "shoe box" only contains grains of sand from a time past, and not the results of the outcome from those grains resting.
Just a random thought of the week. I'm sure next week will be filled with more excitement.
So...
What's in your "shoe box"? Have you resisted change? Have you changed for worse, or the better?
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