(photos by recovering lazyholic)
A certain theme makes its rounds in my head from time to time. It's the "idea of things", meaning I feel that I'm one of those suckers that gets lost in the fantasy of what could be, painting a picture in my mind with all the right components, almost like building a set. Maybe that's why I like photography so much, because it's freezing a moment... a moment that seems so right in my eyes, reducing everything to the perfect configuration of color and shapes. Captured satisfaction.
I'm moving out of my house soon. I've lived here for almost a year (much less time than my last place). While I'm happy to be moving on (goodbye cracking walls, sloping foundation, challenged plumbing) I can't help but reminisce, not of the things that happened here, but of the idea of what originally drew me to it-- hardwood floors, cute porch, proximity to restaurants, old home charm.
That's when I'm faced head on once again with the illusion versus reality. I feel disappointed by what I build up and isolate. How often did I sit on that porch? How many times did I venture down the street for that bite to eat? Part of me thinks I failed myself in not seizing my opportunities. Part of me wonders, could it ever be as satisfying as the mental snapshots I've held hostage? Can a moment looking at a floor be that great? It seems so silly but I can't shake my habits.
The idea of things creates initial appeal, is the attraction. The photograph should be the extension, preservation of grandeur that can't fail because it will now last forever.And all the moving parts in between aren't casualties in experience, but really the part that's worth living.
Blah, blah, blah, etc.