Scraps of Paper in a Book…

Tags

Craft, Future, love, relationships, scrapbook, story

In deep thought...Image via Wikipedia

I’m not crafty. This may surprise you, seeing as though I’m creative. I have no abilities to draw a circle or cut in a straight line. All of my small motor skills are either deficient or non-existent. I can’t stitch a hem, crotchet a rug, embroider a dress, or cut out a pattern. I take good pictures, though, and I keep everything. So it’s no surprise that I thought I could try my hand at getting crafty with a scrapbook–not just any scrapbook, a relationship scrapbook.

You remember when I told you about this, right? Years ago, in “Scrapbooked and Other Musings on Love?” No? Well, I’m going to tell you what happened with the whole scrapbooking thing anyway.

Yesterday, I was emptying out my wallet. It was full of receipts and bits of paper that I’d written blog post ideas and character names on. Once I’d cleared all of that out, I opened a zip and found at least a half dozen movie tickets. I sat and looked at them for a second, and thought, “these go with the scrapbooking things.”

To answer your question, no, I haven’t started the stupid scrapbook. I bought four pages, but I never bought the book, nor did I start taking more pictures to include in my scrapbook. Most of the items belonging in the scrapbook are in an acid/linign free plastic scrapbook bits holder-thingie. As I pulled this out, I began going through the bits of paper inside, strolling down memory lane: bright bits of arm bands, CityWalk and Disney Passes, Playbills, Basketball game tickets, concert tickets, movie stubs, cards, gift boxes, cards from flowers–all of the bits that comprise a three year relationship (except pictures–OK there were two). There’s even a pair of chopsticks and a table napkin.

When I began collecting all of these bits, I didn’t have any idea of the things that would end up among my collection. I’m still not sure what I have in my hands when I look at all of those bits. I’m sure that my hands hold memories of experiences, fond memories, but what else is it? Some people make scrapbooks as a hobby, as a creative outlet–much like some people use blogging. I use everything in my life to tell a story, so my scraps of paper (and hypothetical scrapbook) would have to tell a story. I’m just not sure what the story is yet. I can’t put this scrapbook together without knowing what the end will be.

But this is becoming like that poem about the red wheelbarrow (I’m sure you know the one), and it shouldn’t be. Why can’t I just piece it together as it goes and see it take shape? Why do I have to put the outside boundaries of a puzzle together first, then fill in the details?

Here’s the real question: What would I do with this big hefty book if things didn’t work out? When I talked to my minister during his marriage kit interview, it struck me that if it didn’t work and I married someone else, my scrapbook would have to go. No more ghosts of boyfriends past. But sitting there, looking at three plus years of laughs, tears, certainty, uncertainty, growth, and shared lives, it just doesn’t seem possible to knock that dust off of your feet and just continue on, never to return. Besides, I’d never throw away a good story.

So I’m putting it to you, dear readers, creepers, random visitors, IRL friends, and nosy people (who are friends to the room): To scrapbook or not to scrapbook? Did you scrapbook? Do you have an ex-scrapbook? What happened to it? Am I making a big to do about nothing? Want to psychoanalyze me? Leave your two cents after the beep…

BEEP!

xoxo

 2blu2btru 

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