Change
Anyone who has known me for an extended period of time knows that I am not at all afraid of big changes.
Long hair? Chop it off!
When it's summer, I can't wait for fall. At the end of high school, I was ready for college. Senior year of college, I itched to get out into the real world.
When I'm single, I long for someone to date. When I'm dating someone, I want my freedom back.
Impromptu, unplanned weekend trip? Bring it!
I'll pick up my whole life and move so quickly that some people who know me are left in a cloud of dust scratching their heads.
And lord knows I am not afraid to change jobs. Take my last switch, for instance. Those who know me well were excited. Those who don't know me well just blinked a few times and said, "Again?" when I announced the news that I was starting something new.
But for some reason, yesterday when my friend suggested that I sell my bulky camera on e-Bay and get something more compact so that I could actually use it in most situations, I kinda balked.
"Come on," she said, "let's just put a notice up on Craigslist and we'll see how much you can get for it."
"Um, let me think about it for a few days."
Very un-Rees-like.
Or is it? I've been complaining about my cumbersome camera for months, why not just do something about it? Then I started thinking about other little things, like the old workout socks that were full of holes that I finally replaced two weeks ago - after about four years. The stupid paper yellow cat lamp that I know is silly-looking, but that I've had since college and can't bring myself to throw away, no matter how much of an eyesore it is to my living room. But why would I get rid of it? It's a perfectly good lamp.
Could it be that I'm so intrinsically cheap that it takes me four years to convince myself to spend $10 on new socks and sources of light? Or is it that these old items provide some sense of grounding and security in a life that enjoys turning on a dime? It's like they're relics of who I am now, who I was then, and that journey of becoming. Maybe my hesitancy to get rid of my camera is because it was a Christmas gift, and therefore something to treasure, no matter how inconvenient.
Or maybe I'm just too lazy to deal with selling it and buying a new one. (Did I also mention that in addition to not being afraid of change, I'm also not afraid of overanalyzation?)
Long hair? Chop it off!
When it's summer, I can't wait for fall. At the end of high school, I was ready for college. Senior year of college, I itched to get out into the real world.
When I'm single, I long for someone to date. When I'm dating someone, I want my freedom back.
Impromptu, unplanned weekend trip? Bring it!
I'll pick up my whole life and move so quickly that some people who know me are left in a cloud of dust scratching their heads.
And lord knows I am not afraid to change jobs. Take my last switch, for instance. Those who know me well were excited. Those who don't know me well just blinked a few times and said, "Again?" when I announced the news that I was starting something new.
But for some reason, yesterday when my friend suggested that I sell my bulky camera on e-Bay and get something more compact so that I could actually use it in most situations, I kinda balked.
"Come on," she said, "let's just put a notice up on Craigslist and we'll see how much you can get for it."
"Um, let me think about it for a few days."
Very un-Rees-like.
Or is it? I've been complaining about my cumbersome camera for months, why not just do something about it? Then I started thinking about other little things, like the old workout socks that were full of holes that I finally replaced two weeks ago - after about four years. The stupid paper yellow cat lamp that I know is silly-looking, but that I've had since college and can't bring myself to throw away, no matter how much of an eyesore it is to my living room. But why would I get rid of it? It's a perfectly good lamp.
Could it be that I'm so intrinsically cheap that it takes me four years to convince myself to spend $10 on new socks and sources of light? Or is it that these old items provide some sense of grounding and security in a life that enjoys turning on a dime? It's like they're relics of who I am now, who I was then, and that journey of becoming. Maybe my hesitancy to get rid of my camera is because it was a Christmas gift, and therefore something to treasure, no matter how inconvenient.
Or maybe I'm just too lazy to deal with selling it and buying a new one. (Did I also mention that in addition to not being afraid of change, I'm also not afraid of overanalyzation?)
posted by Erin at
2:02 PM
3 Comments:
Old 'things' depress me. Mostly because they remind me I'm no longer 21.
I figure people have gotta be full of contradictions. Otherwise, what would we overanalyze about ourselves? ; )
Allow me to not leave a clever comment whatsoever, but rather to say that you are a most excellent writer. Seriously. I LOVE Aquarians!
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