Home, Bittersweet, Home... and stuff.

October 7, 2010 - 1309 PST - Fresno, CA

Oh Fresno... the hometown that I seldom miss when I'm away [be it in the Bay or elsewhere], yet I can't ever leave easily once I'm here. What should have been a quick over night to see the charming parents, my little ankle-biting niece, and both bickering brothers for once, is now a not-so-quick three-day event. It wasn't the intention to stay the extra days, but between my ever so wonderful and understanding Prince Charming and well, my mother almost begging me to stay, I sent my Mr. Wonderful back to the Bay solo so that I could continue family time. Yay team...

Though I really don't like for my Mr. Wonderful to make the 3-4 hour trek alone, I figured it would finally give me the time to sort through my heaping pile of "stuff." You see, the "stuff" I have here has had to be transferred time and time again to three different rooms since I've last lived in this house. It's amazing all the changes that a little bundle of joy (that would be my ankle-biting niece) will bring to a dwelling.

The so-called "stuff" that I'm being forced to go through isn't old trophies and stuffed dolls- all of that is garbage when it comes down to it. Material things won't illicit the same emotions years and years later. Hell, some of the crap I absolutely adored from ex-boyfriends now only remind me of how utterly stupid I was to be so weak/vulnerable/goo-goo eyed, etc. But w o r d s . . . words convey the thoughts, feelings, ideas, convictions, and passions that one experiences at a given time. My heaping pile of "stuff" was not old shoes or clothes, it was school work -- most ALLLLLL of my old school work. Everything from my California mission report from the fourth grade and my country report on the Philippines in the sixth grade, to my AP calculus notes from senior year in high school and my Macro-economic notes in college.

At first I was so offended at the thought of just throwing it away. These are memories people!

Blood. Sweat
Tears. Sleepless nights.
Crumpled drafts thrown around the room.
Wads of hair in the drain from all the stress.
Hey, I didn't say they were all good memories...

I remember the roller coaster of emotions all too well. I've always loved writing and language classes, but I was never too fond of deadlines. As much of a procrastinator as I was, I found I was even more so an over-achiever. I knew I could score golden stars and 100% in most classes. And I'm going to go ahead and *toot*toot* my own horn for a bit... I did. I was one overly involved, overly worked, overly ambitious little cookie. I was a ROCK STAR. [Wow, I just envisioned Molly Shannon's 'Super Star!' SNL scene... I wasn't all that far from it actually.. yikes!]

I have no clue how I managed to maintain such high energy throughout high school and university but I must have more than managed. I think about how much I had on my plate back then and am just amazed that these lazy bones ever worked so hard.

I'm now out of college. Immersed in the working world, the real world. It's so strange though that it almost doesn't feel so real. In high school and university I felt so much more in tuned to real worldly things-- things like religion, philosophy, cultural inequities, social injustices-- REAL FUCKING THINGS! And now... I feel unchallenged, unmotivated, uninspired, and desensitized.

I really hate the thought of living in the glory days of college house parties and constantly reminiscing over how things used to be. But I do find it quite alarming that the girl that used to have so much fire and audacity is now struggling to keep those embers ignited. Where did she go?

I suppose it's time to wrap up this pity party and bring on the recycling party-- heavens no, I would NEVER burn this pile of papers -- tree hugger!!! remember?! I can still be the over-achieving fiery ROCK STAR, right? Well, I'm ok with dropping the over-achiever bit so long as I can still kick ass in the end. I'm ready to own my thoughts again. What I mean by that is to put them into w o r d s again. Meaning, to actually put the pen to the paper, or this blogging thing works too. I'm ready to set myself free from this ball and chain of self-doubt and limited expectations.

Time to let go.

Probably less than half of my big-O pile of "stuff" that I laid to rest in the recycling can.

"If you wanna fly, you got to give up
the shit that weighs you down."
- Toni Morrison