New computer. More writing.
Today I am determined to finish what I sort of started yesterday, a brief rundown on the meanings behind my laptop stickers.
Never thought I’d become a sticker person, yet here I am.
What exactly IS a sticker person? I have no idea. All I know is that for some time in my life, I saw people divided into two categories: sticker people and non-sticker people. This begs more exploration. But not today. I have places to be and physical therapists to see.
When I turned in my computer a few days ago, I was a bit surprised at the weepiness that welled up inside me during what should have been a simple, bloodless act: transitioning from a dirty, dusty, sticker plastered, crunchy keyed mess filled to the brim with photos and writing to this sleek and almost empty metal box filled with all kinds of possibilities.
My old computer had personality. This new one is a blank. The duality to me is clear: death and life, out with the old and in with the new. Yes, I know I’m over thinking. But am I? Really?
For me, tossing things I’ve had around for ages is hard. I could write books on saying goodbye to my kids’ baby clothes and toys. Could go into excruciating detail, stomach hurting stuff, about cleaning out my childhood home. In the grand scheme of things, trading in one computer for another is about as minor as it gets.
Or is it?
I’m at that point in my life where I’m starting to think about who I am, who I was, who I want to be, and what, if any, marks I will leave --intended or not, upon this world. In truth, I’ve thought this way almost my whole life and will likely one day write a longwinded explanation about that.
“Almost” because a person’s got to live in the present once in a while, right? You can’t always be thinking about the meaningfulness or meaninglessness of your actions, can you? Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the spontaneity?
Stickers for me represent spontaneity. They’re stupid little acts of rebellion against a society that wants me and others like me – women of a certain age maybe? to continue being the good little girls we were raised to be.
Is that a stupid characterization? Maybe. Maybe not. And it’s too narrow. I could write more on that but don’t have time.
My stickers make me smile. They remind me who I am and sometimes they remind me of who I aspire to be. And because they’re on things the public might see, like my laptop and my car, they let strangers know who I am too.
That’s some scary shit, letting strangers know who you are. Especially in this day and age. Cue the web search on human psychology, fear, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, and so much more.
Think I’m done writing for now. I’m wanting to veer off into topics on safety, protecting oneself through anonymity, politics, changes in society, the importance of holding some things close, and holding your enemies closer, being a force for good, rising up once more even when you know you’re going to get knocked down again. Which brings me back to reality. Gotta get to that physical therapy appointment and heal some overworked body parts. I only have a few months until the next big adventure.
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