Life lessons from a fortune cookie: Part 1(?)

"A new wardrobe brings great joy and change to your life."
--Fortune Cookie, 4.16.11

So I opened a fortune cookie today. I've found that sometimes the messages hidden within those little golden cookies are a bit hit or miss. They range from hysterical to right on the money. Today's cookie fortune was right on the money.

What is it about a new wardrobe that can bring more joy or change? Is it the thrill of having new fabric press against your flesh? Is it the thrill of being able to reconstruct your image? or is it the potential that comes from getting rid of all of the old clothes that tie you to an image of yourself that no longer fits? I think it's a bit of all of these. As I see it, wearing the same old clothes becomes mundane and monotonous after a while. After so many years of seeing the same shirt against the same pants, it becomes a bit intimidating. You lose the thrill, you lose the passion of living. Since what you wear--what you have around you--is a direct reflection on who you are, if you are constantly wearing the same things, it can become a bit saddening because there is never any change. Granted, some people hate change. I am not talking to, or about, these people. Most of us, however, want change--in one form or another. Having the same wardrobe, then, is a reflection of the static states of our lives.

It is for this reason that I feel that a new wardrobe can be so powerful. Getting rid of the old and instituting a new "image," if you will, is a great way to reflect that things are no static. Don't get me wrong, I know that certain articles of clothing carry sentimental value. This is not to say that everything and anything should be discarded. Sometimes something as simple as getting rid of one or two pieces of "old" clothing and replacing them with a few new pieces can constitute a "new wardrobe." What this does is it brings a sense of excitement back to the closet--back to your life. Suddenly you can't wait to try out that new shirt, or those new pants. You can't wait to take them out and see how they make you feel. Sometimes, even, looking at them hang in the closet is enough to make you excited. It is this excitement that a new wardrobe can bring. This is something that most (if not all) crave. This is something that I, as of late, have been missing.

On a decidedly less metaphorical level, I've been stressed this year. More so than I think I should be, honestly. Now, I know life will bring with it its stresses, its pressures, its burdens; but, there's no need to unnecessarily put myself in the line of fire. As the movie title goes, "I can do bad all by myself," so I don't need anything, or anyone, helping me along. Therefore, I have decided to get "a new wardrobe," so to speak. It's time to take out the ill-fitting clothes and find things that reflect who I am--or push me towards who I want to be.

A house is not a home....

What makes a relationship worth it?

When I say relationship, I am referring to an intimate bond between two individuals. Things like marriage, partnerships, etc. What makes these bonds worth the effort that it takes to maintain them?

I've found that, in large, a relationship is like a house. For the first few years, there is a period when everything seems ethereal. No world seems to exist outside of the defining walls, and nothing within them seems wrong. The walls are a comfort, not a prison. All of the mold seems perfectly placed, the paint--while not ideal--is of no consequence, the stairs do not squeak. Each trip outside brings a tiny pain, but each return brings a tingle. This new place is yours. It is home. Your home.

And then comes the effects of time. The comfort turns prison. The stairs begin to creak, the paint--whose color burns your eyes--begins to chip, the mold begins to sag. Each moment indoors seems an eternity; each trip outside seems a much needed reprieve. More time is spent by the windows as you desire less and less to travel to the center of the house.

And this, I fear, is the course of most relationships. So, what makes it worth it?

A relationship should be a malleable rock. Oxymoronic? Perhaps. But still, I think it fits. A relationship should be something that is firm enough to lean on, yet flexible enough to adjust to the currents of time (like the joints of a wall expand and contract according to the heat or cold). It should be solid enough to protect against the rains of doubt; yet, it should be permeable enough to let things in and out (like the screens on the windows). It should sturdy enough to stand when the world shakes, yet it should be mobile enough to relocate when the grass begins to grow greener somewhere else. Most of all, it should have a strong foundation of trust and honesty. Without this foundation, none of the other characteristics are possible. But, most of these elements are things that take time to construct. Like the walls of a house, these need to be fabricated and tested. They need to be tempered and reinforced.

So, what makes a relationship worth it? Necessity? Desire? What?

Honestly, I am not sure. What makes a house worth the wait of construction?