Moving is difficult. Moving internationally is even more difficult. In the back of my mind I always knew that, but as I start mentally partitioning out what is going into storage, what is going to the Salvation Army, what is going in the trash, and what is going with us- well, it becomes a much more insurmountable task.
Moving is difficult when you collect words. When Jack first moved me up to Waco, he said he would move me back to Houston, but that he wouldn't move any new books that I acquired in those 3 years. This is a unfortunate demand for someone starting a master's program that only involves books. Turns out in 3 years he couldn't remember what books I had had before and ended up moving them all again. I have no doubt that he'll move those books at least a few more times.
I'm a collector of words and thoughts. I prefer to sit back and watch, to sit and listen, to take it all in. This is probably why I end up with so many books. I fall in love with characters that will never be real. I dream of places that aren't real. I live in time periods in the far past and the far future. In the past 8 years I've been drawn more and more to non-fiction, which I suppose is some modicum of evolution from the Baby-Sitters Club. I collect emails, postcards, letters, cards, your thoughts and words. I'm a veritable packrat for words.
So leaving them behind is scary.
I love the safety of others' words because I don't always believe my words are enough. I like research papers because I have the ability to edit my words- to try and find the best ones. My brain is a running dialogue between myself and almost anyone that I might come in contact with. I want to say the right thing and the right time. I don't want my words to hurt others or to fall short of what others need from me. So I collect them together and try to piece together a compilation- something to draw from.
I found myself cleaning out some boxes about a month ago. I ended up selling back 10 boxes of books to a used book store. It's remarkable how easy it is to let go of what others write and how difficult it is to let go of my own writing. I think I kept most of my papers from Truett. Not because they are especially good, but because I've developed an affinity for my own words over time. I can't let go of others words about me either. I keep letters from middle school (thanks Sarah!) and notes on reflection papers (thanks Myles!) and just notes of encouragement. While many of the books aren't crossing the Atlantic with us, a lot of these notes are. I have a feeling as I take on the biggest writing challenge of my life, the words from up to this point will be such much more meaningful.
And I hope that my words will one day be useful to someone else. I don't want to say that I hope that someone will collect my words (that seems conceited), but I'm hopeful that my collection of words will be helpful- that I'll say the right thing at the right time.
I've often relied on music to be my words, and the great thing about the digital age is that all of my music is easily packed. So in the midst of packing and thinking about all of these words that will be part of my life soon, I rediscovered Natasha Bedingfield and these two songs that seem to perfectly encapsulate my mood right now. I hope that whatever your words are that they mean something. Don't stop being a person who shares their words.
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| Even in Scotland I found a book as a souvenir... |
Moving is difficult when you collect words. When Jack first moved me up to Waco, he said he would move me back to Houston, but that he wouldn't move any new books that I acquired in those 3 years. This is a unfortunate demand for someone starting a master's program that only involves books. Turns out in 3 years he couldn't remember what books I had had before and ended up moving them all again. I have no doubt that he'll move those books at least a few more times.
I'm a collector of words and thoughts. I prefer to sit back and watch, to sit and listen, to take it all in. This is probably why I end up with so many books. I fall in love with characters that will never be real. I dream of places that aren't real. I live in time periods in the far past and the far future. In the past 8 years I've been drawn more and more to non-fiction, which I suppose is some modicum of evolution from the Baby-Sitters Club. I collect emails, postcards, letters, cards, your thoughts and words. I'm a veritable packrat for words.
So leaving them behind is scary.
I love the safety of others' words because I don't always believe my words are enough. I like research papers because I have the ability to edit my words- to try and find the best ones. My brain is a running dialogue between myself and almost anyone that I might come in contact with. I want to say the right thing and the right time. I don't want my words to hurt others or to fall short of what others need from me. So I collect them together and try to piece together a compilation- something to draw from.
I found myself cleaning out some boxes about a month ago. I ended up selling back 10 boxes of books to a used book store. It's remarkable how easy it is to let go of what others write and how difficult it is to let go of my own writing. I think I kept most of my papers from Truett. Not because they are especially good, but because I've developed an affinity for my own words over time. I can't let go of others words about me either. I keep letters from middle school (thanks Sarah!) and notes on reflection papers (thanks Myles!) and just notes of encouragement. While many of the books aren't crossing the Atlantic with us, a lot of these notes are. I have a feeling as I take on the biggest writing challenge of my life, the words from up to this point will be such much more meaningful.
And I hope that my words will one day be useful to someone else. I don't want to say that I hope that someone will collect my words (that seems conceited), but I'm hopeful that my collection of words will be helpful- that I'll say the right thing at the right time.
I've often relied on music to be my words, and the great thing about the digital age is that all of my music is easily packed. So in the midst of packing and thinking about all of these words that will be part of my life soon, I rediscovered Natasha Bedingfield and these two songs that seem to perfectly encapsulate my mood right now. I hope that whatever your words are that they mean something. Don't stop being a person who shares their words.
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