The Things We Have

I'd actually written a semi-longish, melancholic entry on the nature of possessions when all of a sudden the lights went out, and the part of Subang I stay in was engulfed in a nice quiet blackout.

My sister says someone must have done a Homer on the power supply (refer to the episode where a heatwave in Springfield causes a power drain as everyone turns on their A/C units and Homer switches on a singing Santa toy which plunges the whole town into darkness..) but I digress, really.

So anyway, while I'm waiting for tonight's delayed episode of CSI I thought I'd give it another go (what the heck). Before the blackout, I was finalising a deal with my colleague to buy my old Sony DVD player (this is the same guy who bought me previous TV off me) since he liked it so much after I brought it to work this morning he offered to give me the cash tomorrow. I'm practically giving it away, since I know he'll appreciate it and take care of the unit.

As I was driving to work this morning, it suddenly dawned on me just how much I actually attach emotional value to my posessions. Looking at it sitting there on the passenger seat, its power cord coiled primly next to the remote, I had a sudden twinge of guilt, and a double dose of nostalgia.

It all came back to me: my unstoppable desire to own a DVD player (after the TV, that was the next big thing), the months of saving up to actually afford it (I used to earn much, much less), the somewhat puzzled look on the Ex's face when I lovingly took it back home, the goofy look on mine as I opened it (I still have that look whenever I unwrap a tech buy), the DVDs we bought and watched (I still remember the last DVD we bought the night before she left, it was Chicago) and so much more. These washed over me in waves and I was so tempted to tell my friend that no, I'm not selling, but then common sense reigned and I knew I had to part with it, for my own good, and that the Sony deserved a new home.

I know, it's silly getting all choked up over a TV and DVD player, but these were fixtures in my life, and the first things we ever really spent money on together. These pieces of AV equipment weathered me through some of the best and worst times of my life, and I can't really see how I'd have avoided getting attached to them in a sense.

But then again, maybe I'm just too much of a geek for my own good.

I guess there are a whole lot of sides to letting go. Sure, the hardware's gone, but the memories of the software are with me where it counts. There were some good times, but like all things in life, they had to end someday. I never really named them since I was just so happy to have them around, but I hope they'll bring as much enjoyment to my friend as it did me in another life, long ago.

In the end it can be anything, really. A CD, a picture, a book, a penknife, the pen you use to sign all your cards when you send presents, anything. Most of us don't even realise how much comfort we take in having these things around us that when they're gone the transition can be somewhat jarring. They're like the sight of a light on through the window as you enter the driveway to your home: they tell you that they, and more importantly YOU, belong here.

And for the life of me I don't know anyone who wouldn't like the feeling.