The yesterday conundrum
So I'm moved out of my house and into a temporary living situation for a month, before going to Portland. While I thought this move would be more depressing than it is, I'm finding myself okay with it. I think it's a cross between not really feeling like it's a step backwards, because I know it's a temporary thing, and because it's another way I've disconnected myself from obligation here in Lincoln so that I can get to Portland. I'm excited about it, if anything, because I can save a lot of money, and it brings me closer to the ultimate goal here.
I've been sick all weekend, and while moving with an illness wasn't much fun, I've also shut in since I got all the moving done. Hutson and Buzz have both called me wanting to hang out, and I do want to hang out, as I know I need to keep myself busy to not fall into a rut and become a hermit. On the other hand, I've wanted to take it easy so I could get better and get back to work today. I am back to work today, which seems to mean I'm okay to go out and hang. Which I plan on doing.
However, this move has made me introspective and... nostalgic. I was looking at pictures of a girl I knew from my time in Tokyo earlier today, and it made me think of the pictures I have from back then. Made me go back and read some of my livejournal posts from my time there. And it made me realize how mundane the moment always feels, no matter how amazing it might be to consider in the future, or in retrospect. When I think back to Tokyo, there is always one moment that stands out to me, when I was sitting in an izakaya with most of the group I spent my time with over there. We were ordering drinks, taking pictures, chatting, having a good time. It wasn't anything special - god knows I spent enough nights doing those exact same things with those exact same people. But for some reason, this one particular izakaya stands out in my mind. At the time, I remember it seeming very ordinary and mundane. In retrospect, I wish I could go back there, be back there, with those people, doing those things. I remember them with wonder and awe, but at the time... it was sitting in a place, with people, doing things. No awe, or sense of wonder. Certainly there are times when we experience wonder in the moment - looking at amazing pieces of art, architecture, nature, whatever... but for the most part, life seems made up of ordinary moments that become extraordinary in retrospect.
So now I think back on my time living in the house with Buzz, Casey, and Mike, and I know a year down the line, I will want to be back there. NOW, I want to be back there, but in a different way. 20 years from now, it will be a distant, fond, wonderful memory. And 20 years after that, 20 years from now will be the same. Spending life looking backwards at what has come before, it's easy to miss out on how beautiful and wonderful the moment is that you're missing by dreaming of what you left behind. What *I* left behind. And for some reason, it's even easier to get lost in nostalgia when you feel like you didn't appreciate those moments before as much as you should have, as they were happening... Ironically leading you to similarly disregard the current moments.
I guess what I'm saying is that it's become an imperative in my life to see the moment I am in for all that it is - wonderful and amazing, as well as mundane. And to recognize that even mundane is amazing in its own way... that I could find myself a rut in the middle of such an incredible world.
I also find myself stunned by how much I have changed. I feared change for a long time, and sometimes I still do, when I am feeling more weak or vulnerable. But I find myself now living in flux - out of one house, and in another for only a short time before a massive alteration in where I do what I do. There is not much stability, and not only does it not frighten me, but it thrills me. More and more, I find myself wanting to live a life with less stability and more constant adaptation... constant change. When I'm in a rut, it can become easy to accept and fight for. But now, in change, I feel truly alive. I feel proud to be who I am. I feel like I can handle whatever comes at me.
I've been sick all weekend, and while moving with an illness wasn't much fun, I've also shut in since I got all the moving done. Hutson and Buzz have both called me wanting to hang out, and I do want to hang out, as I know I need to keep myself busy to not fall into a rut and become a hermit. On the other hand, I've wanted to take it easy so I could get better and get back to work today. I am back to work today, which seems to mean I'm okay to go out and hang. Which I plan on doing.
However, this move has made me introspective and... nostalgic. I was looking at pictures of a girl I knew from my time in Tokyo earlier today, and it made me think of the pictures I have from back then. Made me go back and read some of my livejournal posts from my time there. And it made me realize how mundane the moment always feels, no matter how amazing it might be to consider in the future, or in retrospect. When I think back to Tokyo, there is always one moment that stands out to me, when I was sitting in an izakaya with most of the group I spent my time with over there. We were ordering drinks, taking pictures, chatting, having a good time. It wasn't anything special - god knows I spent enough nights doing those exact same things with those exact same people. But for some reason, this one particular izakaya stands out in my mind. At the time, I remember it seeming very ordinary and mundane. In retrospect, I wish I could go back there, be back there, with those people, doing those things. I remember them with wonder and awe, but at the time... it was sitting in a place, with people, doing things. No awe, or sense of wonder. Certainly there are times when we experience wonder in the moment - looking at amazing pieces of art, architecture, nature, whatever... but for the most part, life seems made up of ordinary moments that become extraordinary in retrospect.
So now I think back on my time living in the house with Buzz, Casey, and Mike, and I know a year down the line, I will want to be back there. NOW, I want to be back there, but in a different way. 20 years from now, it will be a distant, fond, wonderful memory. And 20 years after that, 20 years from now will be the same. Spending life looking backwards at what has come before, it's easy to miss out on how beautiful and wonderful the moment is that you're missing by dreaming of what you left behind. What *I* left behind. And for some reason, it's even easier to get lost in nostalgia when you feel like you didn't appreciate those moments before as much as you should have, as they were happening... Ironically leading you to similarly disregard the current moments.
I guess what I'm saying is that it's become an imperative in my life to see the moment I am in for all that it is - wonderful and amazing, as well as mundane. And to recognize that even mundane is amazing in its own way... that I could find myself a rut in the middle of such an incredible world.
I also find myself stunned by how much I have changed. I feared change for a long time, and sometimes I still do, when I am feeling more weak or vulnerable. But I find myself now living in flux - out of one house, and in another for only a short time before a massive alteration in where I do what I do. There is not much stability, and not only does it not frighten me, but it thrills me. More and more, I find myself wanting to live a life with less stability and more constant adaptation... constant change. When I'm in a rut, it can become easy to accept and fight for. But now, in change, I feel truly alive. I feel proud to be who I am. I feel like I can handle whatever comes at me.