where the fuck have you been
I’ll admit, it’s been a while since my last blog. If I call myself a writer, and I do not, I’d say I got a long string of no creativity. That’s bullshit. I got complacent. I got lazy. I got scared. I stopped writing this blog I love because real struggle looked me in the eyes, as scared and confused as I’ve ever seen, and I froze up a bit. I did my very best to help, but was afraid I didn’t help, that I made the road more confusing. Then I got worried I couldn’t handle the responsibility of putting something out there someone might actually read and relate to and even more so, take me up on my offer to talk. What a selfish act. What a prick. However, if I am going to be a selfish prick, I will at the very least be an honest one. Therefore, I decided to get back in the game and this inspiration hit me this morning out of nowhere and it was much unexpected.
so many christmas trees…
As I went to my favorite parking lot today to look for wood to burn, I saw the Christmas trees stacked upon each other. This parking lot of mine that I love is also a drop off for old trees after the holidays. As I saw a gentleman dropping off his tree, throwing it onto the pile like garbage, I was suddenly struck with a great deal of emotion. Immediately I thought about all of the memories and moments that were created around and under these Christmas trees in the last few weeks. I thought about all of the pictures that had probably been taken in front of or with these trees. Now I should stop and tell you I tend to assign emotion to objects even though I know I should not do that. Emotions are feelings we have inside of us, objects have no knowledge of our emotions nor do the objects themselves hold our feelings or memories inside them. But when I looked at these trees and I took what will most assuredly be the last picture ever taken of them, I can’t help but feel somewhat sad.
I don’t know why, it’s not as if these trees could be kept for years to come. It’s not as if these trees ARE the memories that were created in their presence. The memories are in our minds, the trees are merely symbols of a special time of year for so many people. But I still can’t help to feel almost strange in the presence of so many objects that, for a month or so, were the center of so many universes, of so many houses. Perhaps this is another example of how I overthink and analyze everything in my universe and my world. This is a good reminder for me that objects don’t make the memory; the people do.
time for a stretch
In a greater sense, and I might be stretching, but I believe our society has put such a greater importance on the objects and also ensuring a good documentation of the memory that we do not always fully immerse ourselves in the memory and moment itself. Now I am going down a tangent but I can’t stop. I know I’m guilty of it myself, sometimes projecting the image of a moment is more important than the moment itself. Sometimes setting the scene and the picture of the moment also becomes more important than enjoying that moment while it is happening. It seems rather silly that all of this was brought about from just seeing a bunch of dead trees piled on top of each other. But they were so much more than that once. The trees waited their whole lives for that one month in time where they would shine and be the highlight of a house. And welcome to my psyche. The trees don’t have a clue and I doubt I do either. But let me tell you something. Today was another day I didn’t drink alcohol and that makes 2811 days in a row for that truth. But I did feel bad for those trees though. So I’m still fucked up, so that’s good…..