Identity//Clothing//Cleansing
Wow, it's after noon and I *finally* got my coffee for the day. Thank goodness!
Not going to the Douglas Brooks workshop on the Bhagavad Gita today. Vishali was going to take me into the city (*can't stand driving in the snow*) but I backed out (along with some others in my class) as the snow is just too horrendous. I'm hoping I can make it tomorrow. Since I live on a dead-end street, they *barely* plow and I didn't think I could get my car out to meet her at the studio, or get the car back home after 10 tonight.
So I had plans to venture up the block to the convenience store for sugar for the coffee, but I barely made it off my front porch and I thought my face was going to fall off from the sting of the snow. Since I like my face, I decided to nix the store plans and bother my neighbor for some sugar and a bit of cat food.
Yesterday I did a massive overhaul of my closet. I have a gigantic bag of clothes to give away and it feels very good, very cleansing. But I'm having trouble letting go of some of my old clothes, particularly my old crusty punk rock t-shirts and those pairs of pants practically held together by patches and old dirt. Some of the old t-shirts I can pass along to my little brother who will put them to good use, and also to my neighbor Heather downstairs. It's hard to let go though...I realize I'm changing my outward appearance, modifying.
It's interesting. For so many years I thought it was so "freeing" to wear my old crusty punk rock clothes, and in a sense it definitely was. However, it was difficult for me to change because I (subconsicously~didn't quite realize this until more recently) felt that if I didn't wear those clothes (those patches, those pins, the steel toe docs, the army jacket, the studded belt...need I go on?) people wouldn't know where I was coming from. I'm now at a point where I still dress the way I want to, but I don't neccessarily have to wear the "punk rock uniform" anymore. My outward appearance doesn't change who I am on the inside, the ideals that I adhere to. I think in my mid-twenties I felt kind of stuck by my appearance. I wasn't going to quite as many shows, I didn't feel very connected to a scene anymore, my punk rock friends were getting older along with me and we were all changing. *It's OK!*
Not going to the Douglas Brooks workshop on the Bhagavad Gita today. Vishali was going to take me into the city (*can't stand driving in the snow*) but I backed out (along with some others in my class) as the snow is just too horrendous. I'm hoping I can make it tomorrow. Since I live on a dead-end street, they *barely* plow and I didn't think I could get my car out to meet her at the studio, or get the car back home after 10 tonight.
So I had plans to venture up the block to the convenience store for sugar for the coffee, but I barely made it off my front porch and I thought my face was going to fall off from the sting of the snow. Since I like my face, I decided to nix the store plans and bother my neighbor for some sugar and a bit of cat food.
Yesterday I did a massive overhaul of my closet. I have a gigantic bag of clothes to give away and it feels very good, very cleansing. But I'm having trouble letting go of some of my old clothes, particularly my old crusty punk rock t-shirts and those pairs of pants practically held together by patches and old dirt. Some of the old t-shirts I can pass along to my little brother who will put them to good use, and also to my neighbor Heather downstairs. It's hard to let go though...I realize I'm changing my outward appearance, modifying.
It's interesting. For so many years I thought it was so "freeing" to wear my old crusty punk rock clothes, and in a sense it definitely was. However, it was difficult for me to change because I (subconsicously~didn't quite realize this until more recently) felt that if I didn't wear those clothes (those patches, those pins, the steel toe docs, the army jacket, the studded belt...need I go on?) people wouldn't know where I was coming from. I'm now at a point where I still dress the way I want to, but I don't neccessarily have to wear the "punk rock uniform" anymore. My outward appearance doesn't change who I am on the inside, the ideals that I adhere to. I think in my mid-twenties I felt kind of stuck by my appearance. I wasn't going to quite as many shows, I didn't feel very connected to a scene anymore, my punk rock friends were getting older along with me and we were all changing. *It's OK!*