September 12, 2010

Opening a Door

I dislike opening and closing my bedroom window.  It's heavy and cumbersome and inconveniently located in a corner.  As the weather changes, I just pile on more blankets and sweatshirts until it's so cold that we turn on the heat.  Then I finally close the window and stuff all the cracks with that odd silly-putty substance you find in hardware stores and plastic wrap the interior frame.  Now is an intermediate time, when the weather fluctuates wildly from day to day, but the evening breezes have picked up enough that occasionally the force of it opens my bedroom door. You know, in that way that I'm sure has a scientific explanation involving pressure and stuff.

Because I think in metaphor, this seasonal occurrence has made me think of the axiom, "When God closes a door, He opens a window." How often do you hear that? It's meant to convey a sense of hope and even endless opportunity.  Don't worry about that terrible job interview; there's another right around the corner.  That man that ended things by email?  He doesn't matter because someone new and even better will come along.  But when, you ask?  And if each opportunity is so replaceable, how do you know when it's THE opportunity.  Does it make each new person/job/anything disposable?  Replaceable?

That's so depressing, isn't it?  But I think it's how I've been living for the past six years.  Somewhere along the way I came to the conclusion that nothing was really worth holding on to.  I throw out paper and clothes and refuse to develop attachments to apartments or homes.  That fire in my Cobble Hill apartment?  What a great excuse to move!  Rather than trying to improve on a situation, I've moved on.  On the few occasions I have tried to put down roots, I've been the one left behind.  It's painful, and I'd like to say it's made me stronger, but, really, it's just left me a little sad.

This isn't to say that there aren't great things in my life.  I'm working on my master's thesis.  I have amazing friends, who I wish I saw more often.  My home life is pleasant and conflict free.  I'm finally mostly healthy, and I'm able to make plans for the future.  But the constant flux is wearing and I don't want to make anymore adjustments. I want things to be simple.  So let's work on that, shall we?