It's not that I'm trying to make anyone sad, or depressed, I'm just sort of musing aloud about a comment that should never have taken place. (see previous post where past life best friend almost didn't want to write because her life couldn't 'compete' with mine. Whatever...) Life isn't a competition, it's a series of choices. I've made mine, she backed into hers. But who's to say one is better than the other? And why should that keep anyone from saying hello to an old friend?
I'm quite happy with my life, I really am. I'm living the choices I've decided are in my best interest. The idea of going home and settling down to raise a family only depresses me. As it would my family. I'm not cut out for that life. Never was, never will be. So why try to fit myself into that role? I'm a gypsy, it's not for everyone and I realize that. I don't need a base, I don't need to be grounded, I prefer not to know what's next. Not many people can live that way. I know this, why don't others? What is so glamorous about having my belongings in 4 different US states? Every time I embark on a new adventure, I lose things. I pack them, leave them with someone, ship them somewhere... if I'm lucky, the person who is minding them gets sick of my crap and nags me until I retrieve said items. If I'm not lucky, well, I believe this is why eBay was created.
I used to have a house filled with things that I loved. And those things went with me from apartment to apartment over the years. My brother even remarked upon it on visit: different place, different part of the city, but some things don't change. And then he laughed. I believe he was petting my sofa at the time. (not so strange, that sofa was the most comfortable thing many of us have ever been on and was actually the focus of many heated custody battles the night before any big move. College Boyfriend still mourns the loss of the sofa. He spend many happy hours napping there. Rest in Peace Blue Sofa) When I made the move to Los Angeles for grad school, I decided to chunk it all and start fresh. Actually, the idea was to go on as many exchange programs as possible and just not come home. Didn't quite happen that way, thanks you Bob. Anyway, before I left I had a garage sale, which all my friends dropped by and contributed to my education by purchasing stuff they had secretly been coveting. It was an odd day. Haggling over books and pillows while sipping champagne out of crystal flutes. (no one said I couldn't liquidate my life in style) Overwhelmingly, the comment from friends was "are you sure about this? If you want it back later, just let me know." People were just generally uneasy about the idea of me not owning STUFF. Sure, I miss my kitchen gadgets and my books but not enough to ship all that crap to Ireland. Maybe the Doonesbury Anthologies. And really, for the amount of time I spent in my studio at grad school, I only needed a sleeping bag, coffee maker, and toiletries. I ask you, where was Pimp My Ride then, huh?
I am compelled to throw things out. I have a unhealthy need to throw things away and simplify. How many people do you know that can say that? So getting rid of those things that tie me to a place or a time aren't as powerful as perhaps the average person would feel about such things. I keep the important stuff (pictures, wine glasses) but the rest can be better used by others. That doesn't make me glamorous; that makes me... wasteful? ... light? ... in the world not of the world? I don't know what that makes me but I know that my life, how ever it is to be described, is not for everyone. Just as many lives are not for me. So why the constant comparison? And why do I feel so defensive just now?