Captains log 3: 23.1.2011
Following the tradition of every new year, everyone has expounded upon the necessity of possessing something new. Two of my roommates are fulfilling this urge in the form of new hair. One is changing the colour; the other, her style. Two more of my roommates are implementing a different tact. They are seeking the new in the form of relationships. One is slowly forming a boyfriend connection with a recently returned missionary she knew from before. While the other has quite simply moved out in order to occupy the house she and her fiance will own once they are married. The last roommate occupies her time with a new phone she acquired. Leaving me feeling very not new. However, I am okay with that because a renewal in different course work is usually all I need to make me feel like I have progressed somehow as a person.
Unfortunately, the last week or so I have discovered a nasty situation. All of my clothes in my possession, with the exception of a few jackets, to collectively retire and or kick the can. I can understand their sentiments given half of them were brought into my ownership secondhand, while the rest have followed me from middle and high school. I cannot help but feel some sadness at losing them, given we have been through so much together. I knowingly acknowledge that a few people who read this scoff at such an emotional attachment to a piece of clothing. These are the people who have never owned a shirt longer than two years, or if they have only because it was their 'lucky' one. To such people I say, imagine if the newest shirt you owned you have had for four years. Every single one of them are in a way your lucky shirt. One would be the shirt you were wearing when you had that car wreck. Another would be your paintball shirt that you never got shot while wearing. Yet another would be the one you were wearing on your very first date. People with the means to buy new clothing or wardrobes every year simply cannot comprehend the memories a shirt you have owned for eight years can hold.
Despite this, the day has still arrived when it becomes necessary to put away the old and purchase the new. Even now, I am trying to devise ways to hold onto each precious scrap of cloth that has served me so well these past eight years. Hailing from a variety of sources: High school and even middle school band t-shirts, soccer hoodies, math team, beta club, book club, gamma club, quiz bowl, relay for life volunteers, drama play longs, and even girl's camp. Each symbolizes not only the time and place or their origin but in a sense the essence of the person that wore them for so long.
I have worn them so long I do feel as though they are in a way representative of me, and why I feel putting them aside is symbolic almost of myself growing up.
My new wardrobe will be the first that I will actually have to compile with thought and purchase on my own with my own hard-earned money. Even though I can now refine or change my style and wear cloths that are new and that fit, a part of me still balks at the thought. I do not want to grow up, I'm not sure I am ready; However, ready or not the process is happening without me being able to do a single thing about it. Perhaps, what scares me the most is twofold. I am afraid of losing the person I used to be, of forgetting my inner child, just like my old clothes. As well as afraid of who I will eventually become.
My only comfort comes with the realization that I am the one who will decide.
So I guess I will see what tomorrow brings.
Maybe, if life continues.
Floyd, out.
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