Vanity; "I don't know you"

It's a very strange sensation to look at yourself and not find what you'd expect looking back at you. I look nothing like the person I was four years ago. I have worked very hard to change my outward appearance. And while I'd tell you it was motivated by health concerns, I'd be lying to you.

I have actively been making an effort to dispose the things in my life that have brought me unhappiness. My personal appearance was one of those things. I got very good at acting like things didn't bother me but they did, more than can be expressed here. I was a miserable person who put all his energy into putting on a face that showed otherwise instead of actually changing it. In 30 years I had gotten very good at acting I was something I wasn't.

Unfortunately the immensity of my past negative self image is now something that I will carry with me, probably all my life. I've finally accomplished my original goals from 3 years ago and I find there is still more to do before I'm done. Highly superficial changes that I feel I've earned or am in some way entitled to because of my accomplishment, so it didn't surprise me too much when he said, "You're so vain."

The words hurt, only because they were becoming increasingly true. If you were to see the collection of images that I have accumulated on my phone of late you would fully understand. It takes me twice as long to leave the house than it used to. I didn't even see it happening.

I've thought about those words daily since they were said to me over a month ago.

I was angry at the accusation, feeling entitled to my vanity by means of hard work. I was ashamed of myself for exhibiting something so foreign to who I've been in the past. But in the end I was confused. Confused because I couldn't rationalize the definition of vanity without first being able to understand the definition of self.

"I don't know you."

*****

I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom to wash my face. It was early, before 8 am, which is early for a Sunday. Not unlike other mornings I stopped and stared at my face in the mirror, still dripping with water.

"I don't know you."
"I understand you feel that way now, but in time you will."
"We've been doing this for years now, and I still don't feel like we've made any progress."
"That's because you continue to change, as do I."
"How can I ever keep up?"
"In time you'll find a way. Remember it's more than just in image."

A thick fog hung over the concrete as I made my way down Delridge. I've traveled this road as many years as I've been around but today all the differences were alive. Yards that were once filled with cars so rusted they couldn't even be sold for scrap were replaced with townhouses so tight the dandelions can't grow. Where there was once white painted fences in varying stages of decay now there was wrought iron bars topped with Fleur-de-lis'. The bodegas now coffee shops.

Some of the old buildings still remain untouched. It's obvious that their time will come soon. I could see their replacements already sprouting in land-use action boards along the sidewalk as I spoke with the concrete.

"Can they see their own fate?"
"Our time here is short, but they remember the good years."
"Doesn't it make you sad to know we're all so replaceable?"
"It brings me happiness to know that they've served a purpose for so many years. Our purposes will all near an end and we must make room for those to come."
"I wish we could just make more room for everything."
"If you got that wish you wouldn't like it either."

In time all things come to an end, an inevitability whose resolve is ignorant to my disposition, though I'm learning to accept it. I cannot stop it, through fire or age we all must experience ruination, and not just us as people. It will happen to trees and cities, monoliths and friendships. How can I ever keep up?

As I reached the final stretches of Delridge the past was even more removed. None of the old buildings remained, save a plumbers workshop and a school, no longer a school, who was able to keep its facade in the chaos. The play fields were full of life, soccer matches and little league games. The children ran about the grass as their parents and grandparents sat idly on aluminum bleachers.

"You see it happens in all things."
"There are some things I want to hold on to. Some people."
"The longer you hold on the harder you make it for yourself, and for them."
"Can't I keep just a part of them?"
"If you do remember to pick a part of what they have become and not what they once were."

*****

I've also started dreaming again. I doubt these things are related.