Object Permanence

Well I had to deal with it again. That's right. The "box".

And no, we are not talking about Nibbles' litter box. That needs dealing with too.

No, I'm speaking on the rat collection. Or pack-rat collection. There is a dual meaning to this. Secondly, the box-full of memories from my time as a "Pack Rat" (packaging professional) at my old work. And firstly, my boxes and bags full of the everyday life of yesterday. Or last year. Or a decade ago.

The Plague

I have a history of both hoarding things and holding onto things-maybe it's one in the same. Much of this stuff just belongs in a scrapbook. Maybe an altered book-scrapbook? Now there's an idea. I have many three-dimensional trinkets that belong in a scrapbook but are too bulky for such a traditional destination. They'd be better off culling out a niche between shelacked pages in a trinket-box cleverly disguised as a thick-old book. Yep. I'll get riiigght on that.

In the now, I prefer to commemorate memories of two-dimensional things in the form of wall-collages. Pretty much whatever I can stick to the wall via scotch tape goes. It overlaps, twists, turns and makes sense to only me. It's more like scrap-walling. But even these mememtos need a final resting place when I tire of looking at them day in and out. Two-dimesional mementos may be easier to deal with than their extra d counterpart. But even perfection and creativity get in the way of ever really shelving them. If only I could slap them in books the way I do on the wall! A book is too small a canvas.

Pack Rat, Ship Abandoned

Speaking of buried things, I revisted my old work through the objects of office supplies, trinkets, and notes I had boxed up from the day of the "inccident" of which I had no control. That is probably why it still hurts like the day after each time I open the cover. Like a suicide, so many unanswered questions. Like a murder, uncalled for. Like a pre-meditated crime- purpose, whether or not it makes sense to those left standing. It's a bit dramatic characterizing the situation in this way but it's my first rodeo.

The choice had nothing to do with me but everything to do with me at the same time. I was not selected because of anything I did. (It's a good place to be in- you don't have to explain that one away in the interview. It's pretty self-explainatory.) But in a way it is because of what I did. We did. Did we do too much? We just poked about life and the business the only way we knew how and it got in others way. The small goals meant a lot to the overall dream but not enough. The day my team mates and I walked to the "sudden" meeting, I said we were getting cut. Surely not! But history does repeat itself. Happens every five years. Nothing personal.

Then and Now What

Despite my rationalizations, "it is what it is and was what it was." This phrase is a reminder of those lighthearted times and times to come. I used to poke fun at the phrase and phrase-users. Such a "blanket statement", often misused, was easily the cop-out to explaining the situation. However, the phrase is the perfect packing-tape seal for the experience and contents thereof. The box brings back all feelings, good and sad. I keep the good, discard the sad. It hurts. Over time, the trinkets will dwindle and only the faded place in my memory is where it will live, hazy to clear recollection.

I have now reached the point where I am not mad anymore. Any of these emotions are useless and do not propel me forward. It hard telling yourself this when you're bawling in front of your closet very much aware something happened because you no longer punch the time card and deposit the check. Pass the hankie, turn the page.

It's good that third stay is over. Really. Reflecting, it was no way to live. I hated getting up. I felt overwhelmed. I became a tardy, disorganized blob with only the DNA in common with my old self- not the prioritized, driven girl who left college with high hopes of making a life for herself beyond "home". Worst of all, I became satisfied with the sedentary, boring lifestyle I allowed the situation to make for me. If this is adulthood, send me back to the snuggly confines of academics! It wasn't just the job- it was the lifestyle that needed eliminating.

Would I go work there again? Sure. I just know this time to not get too comfortable and look for interesting, fun things to do along the way to make it meaningful for me. Keep a routine. Say no. When it takes on the form of an unhealthy, parasitic relationship on either side, it's no good. You get something from work too, you know.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

The boxes and things I went through again this afternoon are reminders of where I've been and what I've done. And they all have two things in common- me and how God got me there. And they have something in common with the future- me and how God will get me there. This time in His order on His terms. You burn down and grow. Fire and refine. He wants this for me. What I've learned, I'm taking forward. Just promise not to laugh when a flower grows from my head.

>:)