dusting off

i have this piece of crap called room. you can find all kinds of (yes, you genius!) crap in it. from old books and papers to soil and cobwebs, all the things in it seldom see the sun. i was driven to do "a little letting go" (if the phrase would permit me to borrow some sense) this afternoon. it might sound ridiculous but i suddenly realized that there's this subtle kind of poetry in the act of throwing most of the things that remind you of the bitter past, while also finding those that made it worthwhile.

how do i say so? whenever i do a general cleaning, which is, of course, as seldom as an eclipse, i start off with the topmost part. it won't take long before you realize that i'm trying hard to associate this thing with the brain. believe me. so there. let the dust fall on the things that are more capable of holding filth―those that are easier to clean. and of course, one must do the cleaning when he is harsh and most detached from the world, because if not, it will be harder to sift what to keep from what to abolish.

normally, i take the books from the shelf, clean them one-by-one, and put them back to their places; but this time, i yanked all of them down to my bed and stared at the heap i have created. now this is a pretty hard task―to look at the vaults of your knowledge and decide whether to pass them on to someone who might need the same enlightenment or keep them for future self-rehebilitation.

for someone who's no good in any household chore, cleaning is the most tiring yet the most exciting and overwhelming of all. it feels good to recollect your youth personally. cleaning brings back old things. and you don't have to be surprised to find out that you have been a good secret keeper. your chamber contains lots of secrets you've probably forgotten by now. in most cases, nothing will change even if you spill them out. like a herd of whores, youthful secrets lose their value as they age. they might have been made known to the public anyway. these are the mundane secrets of your youth, and are now the subjects of laughter. continue testing your tongue if you want to set a new record for the best-kept secret ever, and people might ask you, "where have you been all these days?"

in my crap, i didn't find much secrets. my best friends were gone long after high school that i don't have any today. i'm referring to that one friend you call "best friend." no secrets were "re-revealed again for the second time around" in its utmost redundancy, but pictures of how strange i looked years ago.. nude pictures of me with fictitious pentel-marked panties.. awkward poses and uneasy crescent smiles.. red-eye and closed-eye snaps while everyone else in the picture seemed in glorious state.. how i looked like with a pimple-sized nose, punch in the mouth, fence-like teeth, and bangs.. how i wore my hair in pony tail, the ends touching the straps of my jumper.. and um, yes, minus the boobs, of course. i looked like a little boy.. and the fashion, not just of me but of people around me. the hair! solid!

the joy of reuniting with the things that made up the totality of your being equals that of letting go of your excess baggage. as what my friend, Jaycee, found in that Oprah thing, "You always do a little growing up everytime you do a little letting go." and i guess, acceptance and detachment are the crucial steps to finally let go of something you've held on for so long. like toys and things you keep because they were your firsts (first pencil, first pay slip, first college papers) eventually, you must let go of them because you don't want to make a dump site out of your body. one can't just contain all the things and emotions he had in a lifetime. successful people are always moving forward and there's always a give-up story in every success. move a little and give room for something fresh. give up something good if you want something better.. just that. if only it were that easy..

i gave a final sweep of everything from under my bed and table. how much junk has accumulated there was epic. now my room isn't a crap anymore. give it some weeks and maybe it'll look like a jungle again. but for now, i see it as a sanctuary for my tired body.

well, since Jaycee starred in this entry. let me steal his comment on my friendster, "tap me when it's about time to cram, procrastinate, and make everything work at crunch time. for now, it's a date with the pillows."