This post might come in as a little personal. I’m sorry if it becomes too feminine slash sentimental slash different to what I usually write buuuuut, I dared myself to post it maybe because it would also serve as reassurance to myself.
Over the past few days and weeks even, coming to think of it, from the start of this year, a constant topic of discussion with myself and my friends has been with regard to our past(s). This means, revisiting and at times reliving, memories that once were. I’m not too sure why the subject was carried forward to this year as well because these sorta jazz gets over when the year comes to an end noh. I suppose it must’ve been the awful traffic blocks and the countless number of times I’ve run out of things to do in traffic. But no, the jazz didn’t come to an end and sometimes it’s really shitty looking back at what happened and what you’ve done and the supposed mistakes you made but at times, it’s a nice recollection. You feel nostalgic and a little sad of course about the memory being now just a vision from the past but it’s a nice feeling or at least, (you tell yourself) it feels that way. I dunno.
It all came back when I began cleaning my souvenir box from India. Yes, India! This is the first of three souvenir boxes I collected during my three years. The largest of the three that filled up pretty fast as it was my first year there (2010) and well I was partially homesick slash excited about the early twenties Indian adventure slash the long-distance relationship slash a lot of other things with regard to documenting history, life and the twenties. I’ve always been a little sentimental and managed to collect artefacts from places I’ve been to (when I was a child of say six this would include rocks and leaves #CollectorsEdition ) and this was no different.
So, during my first year I visited Kerala, a place I continue to love and that explained the dedicated ‘Kerala box’ with bus and train tickets, entrance tickets, hotel receipts (you are permitted to laugh yes!) and I dunno, business cards of the first shop I went to!
Lots of other things found itself in the box as well, including two of my planners! My organiser has been a constant bag/handbag companion since 2006. Recently, it occurred that I should put all of them in one big box! Especially the first planner I used. It was a ‘compilation’ of a lot of planners, undated stuff and all that I put together. I didn’t write to-do lists daily, just when a list popped up or there was a lot of homework or something. I think the ‘undated’ bit allowed me to use it for nearly one and a half years! Then of course I grew up a bit, became almost legal and began rolling on annual planners. For the past three years I’ve become more anal about the texture of the planner because come November, I would be ashamed to take it out of my bag! Not that I don’t take care of things so, just that it’s used a lot and my handbag is usually really heavy. I can’t help it okay. Sheesh. But yea. The planner box must be done. Followed by a wallet-box. I have all the wallets I’ve used since 2004 or something. They are located in their respective souvenir boxes, which are sorted in chronological order. Maybe I should build a cupboard just for all these boxes. Like a memory cupboard, voilà.
I managed to throw out a good number of stuff from the box eventually. You realise when you clean out boxes, cupboards, clothes a few months or years later, that what was once considered important or that memory you tell yourself you will hold on to for the rest of your life, moves on to be one of those ‘why did I even keep a paper serviette from restaurant x’ moments. My first vacation in SL, I remember throwing out boxes of things and books while my mother just stared. I gave her the, ‘throw it while I’m in the mood or forever keep it in storage’ speech and I think that called for a visit to the recycling joint.
I suppose, it helps to sometimes hold on to little things from the past. Perhaps as a reminder of happiness that once was. The happiness you may no longer have at present, or even for the rest of your life due to continuous discontent with yourself, the world and everything else, but then you live with the thought of having once being as happy, and that is enough to get through your Sunday.