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Archive for May, 2012

I Am Not Dead

This is probably considered cheating. I’m making up for my lack of entries by posting twice in one day! I merely wanted to inform you that I will be heading out of town tomorrow and will not return for nearly two weeks. My vacation is taking me beyond the reach of affordable internet connectivity, so I will not be active online. At all.

The good news, I hope, is that I should return with quite a few tidbits to share. Paper and pencil shall serve as my assistants for the coming fortnight. There may even be a flurry of activity when I return. People can change. Right?

Z.

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There is no reward for two posts in five days, is there? Drat.

I am a miser by trade. Shopping is my mortal enemy. However, there are a few things that I will most readily obtain. This is called collecting, not shopping. Books are my primary focus, followed by music (I have dramatically improved in this area over the course of the last year.), and this brief list ends with hats. Top hats, fedoras, baseball caps, newsboy hats, knit caps, fezzes – so many hats, so little coin!

The other day, as I was “cleaning,” I realized that the top of my wardrobe, my kitchen counters, my dining-room table, my living-room end tables and coffee table, and a few chair backs were an insufficient sorting system for my many hats. Thusly, on a bit of a whim, I struck out to find an adequate hat rack. I ended up in an antique market where I found a perfect candidate (and a book – an excellent one) and, after some slight hesitation, procured it. That evening I sat down to enjoy a bit of solitude, a cool breeze, and the glory of my own space (This is different from solitude. Very much so.). One’s own space somehow manages to hide little wonders. Or perhaps the little wonders are simply introduced into said space along the course of one’s life.

The point being that I found myself contemplating my new/old hat rack. What I love about antiques is the stories of which they have been a part. What I love about those “antiques” that I possess is the stories of which they will be a part. So I sat there thinking about whose hat my hat rack had held and how they had come to be there. Yes, you read correctly. I spent an evening making up stories about a hat rack, hats, and strangers. It was good fun. Everyone used to wear hats. Men, women, children…pet mice? There are fancy hats and casual hats, expensive and cheap. Pretty ones, ugly ones, hideous ones, glorious ones – I did not have a story for every hat, but some day I might.

Then there were my own hats to consider. However, as I do my utmost to avoid imagining my own future, this lasted for only a few minutes. Instead, the conjoining of past, present, and future occupied that tiny space in my cranium devoted to musing. Here is this “relic” from days gone by, standing in my living room, and (at least for the foreseeable future) will hold many hats in the days to come.

When you think about it, everything has this property. A tree was once a seed; a book was once a part of a tree. As humans, we are the amalgamation of everything that has happened before us – things that our ancestors did, choices that our grandparents made, places that our parents went. Total strangers, for the most part, shaped our world. Just think. That means that we are shaping the world for those who will come after us. They will be the product of our actions. At some point, we will be just like this hat rack. We will be an object from the past, standing in the middle of a “new” world, and still contributing to it in days to come.

Not bad for an antique…

Z.

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Sigh.

Well, I think that it is safe to say that I have fallen behind. Considerably. There really is not a theme to this post. It is a quiet evening and I have spent most of it just thinking. I do not mean the kind of world-altering thoughts that authors, philosophers, or their kind have. I mean the seemingly-simple-yet-winding thoughts of the day. When you have a spare moment you notice them more easily. You think about the dishes in the sink, the time the sink backed up, the milk in the refrigerator, the book on the table, your friend’s table that broke while you were all playing cards, the letter in the car, the salesman who sold you the car – your mind skips from thing to thing and you follow it as best as you can. Sometimes it is the little things that pop up incessantly; other times, though, bigger things intersperse the little ones. Say, between the milk and the book you suddenly think that you are an awful lot like that milk – spoiling in place. The trails that our thoughts take us in those “unguarded” moments can spiral downward and then, immediately, rocket skyward. Our emotions follow suit, naturally. It is inadvisable to let this trend persist because of that. We can become stuck in a particular line of thought and end up too depressed to think about anything else.

Thought shapes action, yes? It is an interesting thing…

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