Tuesday, November 26, 2013

You and me.

How authentic are we? How much of ourselves is really ours?

I think about this as I unwrap a video game. Weird, right? I remove the cellophane effortlessly but when it comes down to the seal binding the case shut, I pause. Compared to the wrapping which took subconscious seconds to do, this task takes me a little longer. The goal is the same: remove it from the case. But, to keep the seal intact, without tear. I do so and gently stick and smooth it onto the back of the case. It could've been placed anywhere really, it's not about the placement. It's the act in general.

When did I start doing this? Oh, years and years back. I saw someone else do it all the time when they got new CD's or movies or whatever. I thought it was very odd and definitely took time away from actually getting to the damn product! Eventually I helped them do it because I saw the menial task meant something to them if not to me.

I never found out what it was. The reason or anything. All I know is one day I did it with my own DVD or something. Who knows what the first item was. It wasn't set in stone, I didn't always do it but I found myself singling out the "special" or more important cases. For instance, when I got James Cameron's Avatar on DVD. I didn't place the seal onto the box but instead onto my bedroom door. The feeling was the same.

So today I did the same thing. And about a month ago when Maro gave me something else that had the same seal, I can't remember what the hell it was. Either way he asked about what I was doing and why, with an incredulous tone. He did this more or less because he pretty much knows everything about me. Everything constant anyways. If memories such as this pop up and surprise me, there's no way he could know them until I recap to him. I don't think I did that time, told him it was an old habit kind of thing and it is. When I get these recovered memories, they don't always come back in spades. It can take weeks with several little blips of images or feelings to really release it all. I find the more I try to grab at them, the farther back they recede and waver like a nightmareish torch in a cave.

This is just one of the many things I carry still with me from past encounters with all sorts of people. My eyes or mind hone in on some gesture, or sound, laugh or saying and just latches on. It must figure I'm a pretty dull canvas in serious need of some coats of paint. That's fine. I've always been a sort of an inspiration leech. Sounds horrible and it might be but I feel like the part of the mind or space within people go to for their personal fire, I have an empty and cold hearth. Now if that's because I sort of detest (fear) fire, I don't know. Which would make you think I'm a water person but nope. Me and earth are pretty chummy.

I guess I shouldn't knock my unlit mantle and just decorate it with some pictures or candles. Maybe flowers.

Shit. What're are my favorite flowers? Are they really my favorite?