Thoughts On Loss (Not Death, Just Water Bottles)
Once a year, I break into the Granoff Center.
I should qualify that by saying I’m a sophomore, and so by “once a year” I mean a total of two times. It also isn’t really breaking in because the doors are unlocked, but I feel much less lame about running around looking for a lost water bottle if I think about it as a cool break-in.
It wasn’t even the same water bottle. Last year I went to a performance at the Granoff Center, and left my water bottle under my chair. Why I thought I would need to hydrate during a one-man show is beyond me, but I brought it, forgot it, remembered it hours later, went back in the dead of night, slid through the unlocked doors, and… it was nowhere to be found. So I bought a new water bottle that looked exactly like the old one (y’know, to cope), and then went to the Granoff this year for a lecture where I promptly forgot it. Again, I went back to search (this time with the help of a very concerned employee who may have been under the impression that this water bottle was a priceless family relic), but to no avail.
Being a major donor to Marty Granoff’s personal water bottle collection is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve managed to leave jackets, scarves, books, gloves, and food all over this campus like a monk trying to let go of his worldly possessions. I ran a small marathon last year when I dropped my wallet *somewhere* on the ground. I’ve forgotten my computer in enough places that I probably shouldn’t be allowed to own a computer. It’s becoming less of a quirk and more of a way of life, and as I write this I’m really resisting the temptation to whip out the calculator and figure out how much this hobby is costing me.
The most fun thing of all is when I lose something, buy a new thing, and then find the first thing again, so now I have two things when I only needed one. A couple weeks, thinking I had lost my cozy winter hat, I went to the Bookstore and took out a second mortgage so I could buy a new cozy hat. Then I found the Original Cozy Hat in the pocket of the winter coat that I had literally been wearing all day. Now, like a psychopath, I have two matching cozy hats. I’m beginning to resent both of them.
In the same vein, I bought a new umbrella after losing my old umbrella (and the umbrella before that, because I have a serious problem). Then my French professor emailed me to tell me that— mon Dieu!— my umbrella had been sitting in her office for the past two weeks and she’d just forgotten to tell me. Or maybe something more sinister was going on, because when I emailed her back to thank her for holding on to it, she responded with “AHAHAHAH” and signed it “The Thieving Professor.” In French, of course.
If this were an academic essay I’d tie it all up with an overarching lesson about gratitude or something, and maybe the umbrella is a metaphor for death. But the nice thing about blogging is that I can just vomit up a series of stories about me being stupid and that should tide you over until next week. Wish me luck on the train ride back home for Thanksgiving, during which I’ll be duct-taping my suitcase to my face as a precautionary measure.
Also, if anyone’s seen a water bottle lying around, it’s probably mine.
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