A couple of nights ago, my mother looked over at me and said, "So have you just given up on your blog?"
What can I say? Sometimes the inspiration to write just doesn't strike, and I get lazy about blogging. I'll admit, this summer has made me lazy and lethargic in general, and I don't like the feeling. I've realized that so much of the joy is drained out of leisure when that's the majority of how you spend your waking hours. Simple pleasures like reading a book, watching a good movie, or soaking up some sun are so much sweeter when contrasted with a life that's somehow constructive and/or productive. Relaxation is best after a hard day of work or study, not after days and days of more relaxation.
Who knows, maybe I just need to learn how to enjoy a break when I get one. One productive thing I
have been doing this summer is beginning the long, dirty, arduous process of cleaning out my room. Not just a tidying-up sort of cleaning, but an intense "I am moving out permanently and so should all my earthly possessions" sort of cleaning. It's sort of a sad process (I am a total packrat and I hate getting rid of things), but also remarkably liberating. It makes me take some long term perspective on my life and consider what I really want to keep with me through the coming years.
What really amazes me is how much
stuff I've managed to accumulate in my short time on this earth. Whenever I get back from a trip, especially a trip overseas, I am always reminded of how little I really need. I have happily lived out of suitcases for months at a time...then upon returning home, it suddenly seemed as though I couldn't live without all those silly, extraneous things I'd lived without for so long.
My particular weakness is for sentimental items. Today I dug through piles of old high school photos, t-shirts from my musical theater days, costumes, some ugly dance trophies, a few sketchbooks full of terrible artistic attempts in middle school, report cards, a box of encouraging notes from my fellow counselors at camp, and countless ticket stubs saved from various metro rides in European cities. Every tiny item, no matter how silly and trivial it might seem, felt like a tough call. Throw it away, or add it to the ever increasing mountains of stuff that come with me every time I move? Though I have to admit keeping more than I should, I was reminded over and over again how temporary all these things are. The memories themselves are woven into my life, and throwing away some physical reminders won't change that reality.
Someday, when I (God willing) have a family of my own, I don't want my home to be crowded with boxes of souvenirs and mementos of just MY life, but of the life I share with my husband and children. I want to be free to simply cherish experiences in my heart
wherever life takes me, free from a burden of excessive nostalgic trinkets and greedy accumulation. I can only hope to look back at the end and be able to say I was more invested in people than in things, more eager to give than to buy, more trusting in God than in any amassed wealth.
I saw a Today Show clip this afternoon about the dangers of giving your children coffee, involving paranoid parents and nutritionists. They primarily focused on the horrors of extra sugars and fat in fancy coffee drinks, because "no child is going to drink black coffee." Ridiculous, I say.
