Sunday, February 17, 2008
I thought a lot about time yesterday. It started on my train ride to Sandy to investigate the antiques fair. I used to ride the train virtually everyday and I was quick to remember all of the buildings I saw on a regular basis. I saw the old warehouses and businesses, the rusting vehicles and empty fields. I also experienced the thoughts and feelings that I used to mull over as I rode the train toward school or back home. Although this routine ended only two years ago, I feel that I have changed considerably since then.
I remembered how monumental school seemed. The whole institution seemed daunting: literally as well as figuratively. I got lost on campus a few times and I felt inundated by new people, new experiences, and new demands. I could not see at the time how I would ever fit myself into this new life.
The train ride also caused me to think of my initial experiences living on my own. I was constantly besieged by worry: how I would pay my rent, if I would be able to make a home for myself and if I would have the chance to end my loneliness and connect with people.
My life now is much more stable. I am confident about school, even if I get a little overwhelmed at times, and I think I have cut out a place for myself in the world. Although I took the same trip that day that I had taken just a few years ago, I was able to bat away those old fears like they were insects.
Of course, the antiques fair was a backward trip through time. I love the idea that objects that meant so much to one person can mean a lot to another person years later. Glass cases were filled with old jewelry, keys, and mysterious boxes. I ended up buying some small porcelin sake cups. I examined the design on the side and wondered who had owned them and what gave them joy. I think there is something very sterile about buying brand new products; but if I have to do so I like to think that I am the first to give the object some life.
My last time travel adventure brought me to the future, sort of. A friend who went to the antiques fair with us told me that she was soon to get certification to open up an office for therapy. I was delighted when I heard this because that is a similar goal of mine. She gave me good advice on what education to get and the experience required to become a therapist. I am now much more sure that I can make the kind of life that I want career-wise in shorter time than I previously thought.
I spent some time thinking about my future. I saw myself in eight to ten years doing what I really want to do: helping people. I know that I have to sacrifice now to get what I want later, but I was beginning to feel lost in all of the meaningless jobs and the many classes I've taken for school. I felt refocused after talking to this friend about therapy.
Later on that night I was talking with someone about birthdays and aging. He said that 25 seemed like an old age. To me, however, being a certain age and feeling old aren't necessarily tied together so strictly. I think that I'll only begin to feel old when I stop moving toward my goals. Then, I won't be moving forward, or even backward. I'll be stuck in time.