Valentines in the overhead compartment
Valentines Day seems to be the perfect time to feel the weight of whatever baggage you're dragging around with you.
I was lucky enough to enter adulthood with just a small carry on of my own, but the past year and a half added a 747's worth of suitcases to my one. Suitcases that I didn't pack, that didn't belong to me, that weren't a part of what I signed up for when I booked the flight. All this luggage weighed down the plane to the point where it could no longer fly. As it began it's nose dive back to earth, I tried to throw out some of the extra baggage, but the plane continued to plummet and I had no choice but to save myself. Somewhere in the confusion of the crash, all of the luggage got jumbled around and I ended up with a few more bags that didn't belong to me. I'm not sure what to do with them. How to get rid of them. I can't find the lost and found, and I don't want to run into their original owner there anyway. So I just try to forget that they're there. Out of sight, out of mind. But they make their presence known at unlikely and inopportune moments, bumping into the backs of my knees, throwing off my balance, tripping me up. And every time I try to get on another flight, I get caught up in customs for all this extra shit that doesn't even belong to me. I'm tired of letting it weigh me down. I'm not even looking to take a long distance vacation right now, but a few little day trips would be nice and I can't even get on a bus with this shit.
This is the inherent problem with having a traveling partner. Inevitably, at the end of the trip, when you're both packing back up, some of your stuff gets mixed in with theirs, and some of theirs with yours. You lose some things that you need, your favorite blue shirt, your toothpaste, your Nora Jones cd(i'm still really pissed about that one)...and you gain items that you don't want, that will just make your next journey more difficult, like their tangled mess of costume jewelry that sets off every metal detector you get near and their vibrator that goes off in your suitcase causing customs to pull you aside thinking you're trying to carry a time bomb onto the plane, and all the while you're trying to explain to them that no, you broke up with the time bomb, she just left some of her shit behind, and you'd actually be thrilled if they took it off your hands for you.
I guess the key is to accept the fact that you've been saddled with someone else's shit, and that now it's up to you to take responsibility for it, and for getting rid of it. You have to dive right into the pile of suitcases, and dig through until you've found every last item, right down to the backs of her earrings, that doesn't belong to you. See and sift and sort and throw away til you're left with just yourself and your own shit. And the next time around, choose a traveling partner with these words from Rent in mind "I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine".
And to make this post even longer...
A Valentine for the one who used to be the one.
For the one who doesn't see her own baggage.
For the one who doesn't comprehend 'fuck off'.
For the one who 2 months later,
still won't accept that I mean it this time.
No, really baby, just fuck off.
"The early cars
Already are
Drawing deep breaths past my door
And last night's phrases
Sick with lack of basis
Are still writhing on my floor
And it doesn't seem fair
That your wicked words should work
In holding me down
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round
Conversation once colored by esteem
Became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood
Took a vacation, my palate got clean
Now I could taste your agenda
While you're spitting your cud
And it doesn't make sense
I should fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache
What is this posture
I have to stare at
That's what he said when I'm sittin' up straight
Change the name of the game 'cause he lost
And he knew he was wrong but he knew it too late
But I'm not being fair
'Cause I chose to listen to that filthy mouth
But I'd like to choose right
Take all the things that I've said that he stole
Put 'em in a sack
Swing 'em over my shoulder
Turn on my heels
Step out of this sight
Try to live in a lovelier life
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I cant stop falling out
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact i cant stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache"
-Fiona Apple
I was lucky enough to enter adulthood with just a small carry on of my own, but the past year and a half added a 747's worth of suitcases to my one. Suitcases that I didn't pack, that didn't belong to me, that weren't a part of what I signed up for when I booked the flight. All this luggage weighed down the plane to the point where it could no longer fly. As it began it's nose dive back to earth, I tried to throw out some of the extra baggage, but the plane continued to plummet and I had no choice but to save myself. Somewhere in the confusion of the crash, all of the luggage got jumbled around and I ended up with a few more bags that didn't belong to me. I'm not sure what to do with them. How to get rid of them. I can't find the lost and found, and I don't want to run into their original owner there anyway. So I just try to forget that they're there. Out of sight, out of mind. But they make their presence known at unlikely and inopportune moments, bumping into the backs of my knees, throwing off my balance, tripping me up. And every time I try to get on another flight, I get caught up in customs for all this extra shit that doesn't even belong to me. I'm tired of letting it weigh me down. I'm not even looking to take a long distance vacation right now, but a few little day trips would be nice and I can't even get on a bus with this shit.
This is the inherent problem with having a traveling partner. Inevitably, at the end of the trip, when you're both packing back up, some of your stuff gets mixed in with theirs, and some of theirs with yours. You lose some things that you need, your favorite blue shirt, your toothpaste, your Nora Jones cd(i'm still really pissed about that one)...and you gain items that you don't want, that will just make your next journey more difficult, like their tangled mess of costume jewelry that sets off every metal detector you get near and their vibrator that goes off in your suitcase causing customs to pull you aside thinking you're trying to carry a time bomb onto the plane, and all the while you're trying to explain to them that no, you broke up with the time bomb, she just left some of her shit behind, and you'd actually be thrilled if they took it off your hands for you.
I guess the key is to accept the fact that you've been saddled with someone else's shit, and that now it's up to you to take responsibility for it, and for getting rid of it. You have to dive right into the pile of suitcases, and dig through until you've found every last item, right down to the backs of her earrings, that doesn't belong to you. See and sift and sort and throw away til you're left with just yourself and your own shit. And the next time around, choose a traveling partner with these words from Rent in mind "I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine".
And to make this post even longer...
A Valentine for the one who used to be the one.
For the one who doesn't see her own baggage.
For the one who doesn't comprehend 'fuck off'.
For the one who 2 months later,
still won't accept that I mean it this time.
No, really baby, just fuck off.
"The early cars
Already are
Drawing deep breaths past my door
And last night's phrases
Sick with lack of basis
Are still writhing on my floor
And it doesn't seem fair
That your wicked words should work
In holding me down
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round
Conversation once colored by esteem
Became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood
Took a vacation, my palate got clean
Now I could taste your agenda
While you're spitting your cud
And it doesn't make sense
I should fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache
What is this posture
I have to stare at
That's what he said when I'm sittin' up straight
Change the name of the game 'cause he lost
And he knew he was wrong but he knew it too late
But I'm not being fair
'Cause I chose to listen to that filthy mouth
But I'd like to choose right
Take all the things that I've said that he stole
Put 'em in a sack
Swing 'em over my shoulder
Turn on my heels
Step out of this sight
Try to live in a lovelier life
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I cant stop falling out
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact i cant stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache"
-Fiona Apple
posted by ath at 11:09 AM
4 Comments:
I really enjoyed this post. Not only was it worded well, but your analogy of airplane luggage and vacations worked nicely. My favorite line, though, was:
"No, really baby, just fuck off."
Also, I don't think this line:
"No, really baby, just fuck off"
makes you sound mean. Sometimes, honesty hides itself in different forms, but when you boil it down, it's still just honesty. And, as our mothers always told us, that's the best policy.
I agree, excellent analogy. I guess the only thing to keep in mind is that no matter how scary or boring, or how many times it made you want to throw up into those stupid little bags, the flight is the experience. And after you land and after the jet lag, you can say to yourself, look at me, I did it. And then you get your wings.
Thx. Now I can't get that song outta my head! Ah.
But seriously, don't forget that hauling around all those extra bags for a while and processing how and what to do with the ones that aren't yours, will definitely make you stronger: you might even find a way to unload some of your own bags along the way.
And... next time, when you're ready to take up a new traveling partner, you'll be able to recognize the luggage that doesn't match your ticket and walk away before it attaches itself to you.
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