Rossi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deathpixie) wrote2002-04-08 05:29 pm
deathpixie) wrote2002-04-08 05:29 pm
Little boxes...
It's strange how little space things take up when they're packed in boxes. We've packed almost the entire courthouse, including twenty years worth of various files that we must keep for legislative reasons, and there really doesn't seem that much.
It's the same with moving house. Mum and Dad are wondering about what to do with my stuff while I'm travelling, concerned that it won't all fit in my grandparent's storage shed along with my brother's stuff, but I know it will. Because I've seen it boxed up before, many, many times in fact, and I know how much space it doesn't take up. I don't really own a whole lot, when you consider how long I've been living out of home and such. People my age, some of my friends in fact, seem so bogged down by possessions, like they're trying to full a space with objects. Part of this transient lifestyle I seem to lead.
It's odd, but when I look at my life, 'transient' is a good description. Even my family accept that - Mum doesn't get worried if she doesn't hear from me for weeks, because she knows I can look after myself, and she knows I'll call if I need help. I pass through life, and while I'm around I make an impact, but then I'm gone again, and it's like quicksilver, a flash and then gone. My friends at university, who were the first truly close friends I ever had - they're all scattered now, and I'm in occasionaly contact only. Karate people are glad to see me while I'm there, but they're forgetting me - as the face of the club changes with new students joining and old ones dropping out, there won't be much trace left. And on the occasions that I go off-line, there are a few people who contact me and who I contact back, but otherwise it's just the welcoming reaction when I come back. No doubt people are wondering where I am, but they don't wonder enough to try and find out. ;)
Some of that's my fault - I'm a bad person for returning calls and email. And I sometimes get resentful of having to make the first moves towards contacting someone. There's also the instant "Just Add Internet!" nature of my online friendships - it's easy to forget about people if they're not there in your face all the time, because there's so much else to distract your attention. This isn't a whinge, BTW; more an observation. Hell, I do it too. ;)
I may be completely wrong about this, but that's how I see a lot of my relationships - there while I'm there, gone when I'm not. And no, that's not every relationship I have - there are journal entries disproving this whole theory. But sometimes that's how it feels. Like I'm quicksilver; a bright flash, and then gone. Perhaps because my relationships, like everything else I do, take up so much of me - I don't do things by halves. Problem is, I'm prone to burnout - that's why I've become more distant to some of the people I used to be extremely close to, because I've worn myself out. And it's a source of late-night angst for me. ;)
I've been thinking about journeys, and that figurative journey we're all on. About how some people take diversions and end up miles from where they thought they were going, and how others stride ahead, not looking left or right, and so missing out on all those amazing little things on the roadside. These are the people who travel with their sights fixed firmly ahead and who don't take time to savour the moments of journeying, and then there are others who travel looking back over one soulder the way they've been because the distance ahead seems too much or too hard. And at our feet are footprints in the dust, of those who have gone this way before, and sometimes you catch up with their owners and they nod as if to say, "Yes, I've seen what you've seen." It helps to know that there is someone else out there, breaking the trail, so to speak, just as there are others following behind, taking comfort from the marks we leave.
See Rossi become philosophical. *grins* This is what happens when I'm physically exhausted. Brain runs on its own with no restraints.
It's the same with moving house. Mum and Dad are wondering about what to do with my stuff while I'm travelling, concerned that it won't all fit in my grandparent's storage shed along with my brother's stuff, but I know it will. Because I've seen it boxed up before, many, many times in fact, and I know how much space it doesn't take up. I don't really own a whole lot, when you consider how long I've been living out of home and such. People my age, some of my friends in fact, seem so bogged down by possessions, like they're trying to full a space with objects. Part of this transient lifestyle I seem to lead.
It's odd, but when I look at my life, 'transient' is a good description. Even my family accept that - Mum doesn't get worried if she doesn't hear from me for weeks, because she knows I can look after myself, and she knows I'll call if I need help. I pass through life, and while I'm around I make an impact, but then I'm gone again, and it's like quicksilver, a flash and then gone. My friends at university, who were the first truly close friends I ever had - they're all scattered now, and I'm in occasionaly contact only. Karate people are glad to see me while I'm there, but they're forgetting me - as the face of the club changes with new students joining and old ones dropping out, there won't be much trace left. And on the occasions that I go off-line, there are a few people who contact me and who I contact back, but otherwise it's just the welcoming reaction when I come back. No doubt people are wondering where I am, but they don't wonder enough to try and find out. ;)
Some of that's my fault - I'm a bad person for returning calls and email. And I sometimes get resentful of having to make the first moves towards contacting someone. There's also the instant "Just Add Internet!" nature of my online friendships - it's easy to forget about people if they're not there in your face all the time, because there's so much else to distract your attention. This isn't a whinge, BTW; more an observation. Hell, I do it too. ;)
I may be completely wrong about this, but that's how I see a lot of my relationships - there while I'm there, gone when I'm not. And no, that's not every relationship I have - there are journal entries disproving this whole theory. But sometimes that's how it feels. Like I'm quicksilver; a bright flash, and then gone. Perhaps because my relationships, like everything else I do, take up so much of me - I don't do things by halves. Problem is, I'm prone to burnout - that's why I've become more distant to some of the people I used to be extremely close to, because I've worn myself out. And it's a source of late-night angst for me. ;)
I've been thinking about journeys, and that figurative journey we're all on. About how some people take diversions and end up miles from where they thought they were going, and how others stride ahead, not looking left or right, and so missing out on all those amazing little things on the roadside. These are the people who travel with their sights fixed firmly ahead and who don't take time to savour the moments of journeying, and then there are others who travel looking back over one soulder the way they've been because the distance ahead seems too much or too hard. And at our feet are footprints in the dust, of those who have gone this way before, and sometimes you catch up with their owners and they nod as if to say, "Yes, I've seen what you've seen." It helps to know that there is someone else out there, breaking the trail, so to speak, just as there are others following behind, taking comfort from the marks we leave.
See Rossi become philosophical. *grins* This is what happens when I'm physically exhausted. Brain runs on its own with no restraints.
no subject
It gets lonely sometimes. And it's hard to remember the network of relationships that surrounds you. But we're there. And we love you.