Aug 27 2003
This year’s decay
This morning I began a journey into my usual bi-annual clearout (albeit a little late this time). That is mentally, and both physically, shifting the huge amount of paraphenalia that clogs up both my mind and room, in order for all the change that is on the horizon to move in smoothly. I created mental lists of people I’ve become acquainted with in the past year, their good points & bad points, and eventually marked their name with a cross or tick, denoting whether I wanted to cease contact with them or not. I have always had a small number of decent, close friends, as opposed to playing the socialite and revelling in huge circles of friends, and today, when I counted the ticks, I realised that nothing much has changed. I erased people from my phonebook who I no longer care about (and know this is reciprocated) and waded through papers from classes that I’ll no longer take, eventually dumping a knee-high pile in the crusty blue recycle bin. The whole experience was like breathing cold air on a humid summer’s day — that kind of refreshment that you just don’t find in day-to-day existence.
I’ve never understood why some people are so afraid of change, to watch life flow like water, coursing down a stream that’s forever changed with every eroding drop. I seem to welcome change, unlike many of my friends who prefer to stay in (what I perceive to be) stagnant situations. I’m chuckin’ out this year’s decay and welcoming the warm (but not scorching), mellow autumn of two thousand and three, with my scrawny open arms.