On a life of simplicity....

The idea of living a simple life is incredibly appealing to me (hmm...I initially typed "appalling" rather than "appealing"...my subconscious is getting the best of me today). My brother lives this way. Basically everything he owns, aside from his car and record credenza, fits in a hockey bag. It's pretty remarkable. There's a reason he can up and move to another city or country just about any time he wants to.
 

I have an astounding collection of "stuff" that I'm trying to weed my way through. I just don't need most of it. My collection of Christmas crap alone is unimaginable. I'm looking forward to digging all the Christmas stuff out this year for one over-arching reason: whatever I don't put up or out is going straight to the Goodwill. I have high hopes that I'll be able to lighten my load significantly.
 

I still believe that "stuff" regenerates every time I take a load of things to the Goodwill. About once a month, I'll take a trunk full of things to donate and when I come back home, it seems my house and garage haven't gotten any less cluttered. It's a very strange phenomenon. There's always something else to straighten or shred or throw away or give away or clean or sell. It's a never-ending process.
 

I live in a very dichotomous world when it comes to this. I love having "stuff" and "things," but every time I think about moving, I wish I had about a third of the things I have. I hate packing and moving. It would be so much easier if I could just throw all my stuff in a hockey bag, jump in the car, and peace out. Alas...it would take a team of movers (and friends) to get my crap packed up. Sigh.
 

So yes, living the simple life sounds like a pretty good idea to me. Now to clean out the sheds...

On the choices we make....

I was recently asked, "What's the most difficult decision you've ever had to make?" I think it's safe to say I know the answer to that question, but am not willing to elaborate on it. Maybe not ever.
 

So instead, I'll talk about A difficult decision, rather than THE difficult decision. I promise, it pales in comparison.
 

I made a choice when I was a senior in high school that might be the only thing I've ever regretted. I try not to live a life of regrets. There's nothing I can do to change the past, so there's little point in dwelling on it. But this one tends to haunt me from time to time. And it's really not even that big of a deal.
 

I chose to sing in a band rather than be a cheerleader my senior year. I desperately wish I wouldn't have made that choice. Yes, I loved singing with that band and I learned a lot, musically and personally, by being with those people, but cheerleading? That was, by definition, who I was. I fought long and hard to get to that point and I was told by my coach that there'd be no voting, no nothing...her decision to have me as captain was final and certain.
 

Having to tell her that I wouldn't be part of the squad was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had. I wrote a formal letter and sat down to talk with her. Even at 17 years old, I knew it was going to be difficult and I tried to go about it the best way I knew how. It was incredibly painful.
 

Watching some of my closest friends cheer at every football and basketball game sometimes became too much and I'd leave games early (sometimes in tears). I missed out on a lot that year. A LOT. I tried to make it up to myself by coaching a junior high squad for two years after high school and that, in and of itself, was incredibly rewarding. I still get to see and talk to some of those girls and it's fun to hear their stories and versions of stories from when we worked together. But even working with them made it hard not to be a part of "my" squad.
 

Yes, it's probably a very silly thing to have a regret over, but I do. I don't think about it often, but when I see my box of high school memorabilia (which contains a pair of contraband poms), I get a bit wistful. Not the way I'm wistful when I see another box in my storage shed, but wistful, nonetheless.

On a circle in life...

For the last several months, I've had to learn what it means to be alone. I've spent a significant amount of time alone recently. Sometimes that's good, sometimes it's bad. For a long time, I've thought that "being alone" was kind of a bad thing, like something was wrong if I was alone (or if anyone was, for that matter), but what I'm coming to realize is that being alone is kind of refreshing. Almost necessary.

I'm not prone to spending time alone. I like being around people. I like noise. I like distractions. So in the last few months, this being alone thing has taken it's toll on me. I don't have people calling me up very frequently to hang out with me or just to talk. So I find myself spending a lot of time working out and watching TV...and more recently, I've been going to the local brewery and reading for hours on end. I was never one to really go out by myself...seeing movies alone or going to dinner by myself or taking me out for a drink just seemed awkward. Now I relish in it. About a month ago, I took myself to see a movie because a) I could and b) I wanted to see if I could really do it. Turns out, it was actually a lot of fun! I spend a ton of time with my dogs...we wrestle and go for walks to the park and play outside. They are guaranteed happiness.

So while I've found ways to enjoy being alone, I also miss NOT being alone. It's nice to have someone around to talk to or hang out with or have adventures with. It's nice to having someone to go to the movies with and make dinner reservations for.

I think there's an interesting cyclical balance that's struck between solitude and companionship. Being alone teaches me that I need to be around people, while being around people shows me that alone-time is good and sometimes necessary.