I Hope You Like Pain.

1.18.08, 11:41 p.m.

there's something therapeutic about folding laundry.
every piece of clothing holds its sentimental value.
each article intertwined with our memories of the times we wore them.
the cycle of clothes reminds me of daily repetition.
most of the clothes are like old friends we know,
all visiting and reminding us they're still a part of our lives.
then, there are clothes that are new additions to the pile --
clothes we have never seen in the pile.
new old clothes.
first-time laundry.
these moments of seeing new clothes in the pile of old clothes
serve as reminders of change.
as much as life can sometimes feel static,
those few still-unfaded shirts,
those unbroken-into jeans,
those socks absent of dirt and holes on the bottom,
are all small changes in our routine.
small tidbits of daily life that help break the monotous loop.
sometimes i envy laundry.
not only because they are able to develop comfortable communities
of similar shirts, pants, shorts, beaters, boxers, and socks,
or that new clothes fit into the community without discrimination,
(other than the fact that the ones most often in the laundry
only mean they are some of the most worn,
and thus, favorite clothes of mine),
but because no matter how dirty they get,
no matter how much they've been through,
and no matter how much friction and ruggedness they experience,
one simple wash cycle can bring them back to life.
clean. refreshed. dirt off all over, not just the shoulders.
i wish there were some sort of washing machine
that easily washed away all of my daily
burdens,
struggles,
conflicts,
tensions,
regrets,
insecurities,
failures...
and a dryer to put me back in good shape.
not stretched and worn through my experiences,
but restored to my perfect, clean condition.
and smell hella good, on top of that.
to me, laundry is not only change,
but also love and independence.
laundry is love.
since i can remember, laundry was a family event.
my parents washed the laundry,
while the children folded and sorted it.
it was a collective effort, with every member fulfilling a unique task,
and the end result was collective as well.
by the end of the laundry process,
we had cleaned every article of clothing in the pile,
and each member of the family had their own separate stacks
of fresh, folded laundry,
and we would take our stacks and place them back
in our cabinets and drawers to be worn another day.
or if anyone felt really generous,
that one person would put everyone's stacks of laundry away.
laundry is love.
you wouldn't clean and fold just anyone's dirty clothes.
as a family, we each contributed, and it was almost fun.
folding clothes in front of the tv is just like watching tv.
i admit,
these days, doing the laundry by myself isn't quite as fun.
everyone's grown older,
with their own personal busy schedule that never fits with anyone else's,
which equals sporatic laundry schedules.
finally, just last year...
i had to wash and fold my own laundry.
i became too impatient to wait for someone else to do my laundry,
and embarrassed that i had become so spoiled to simply
wait for someone else to do my laundry.
lucky for me,
laundry is independence.
as much as i had accomplished on my own in life,
i never felt as independent as when i did my own laundry
for the first time.
i no longer had to sit there stumped,
trying to figure out whose clothes belonged to who,
having to remember which socks were mine
and which were my father's --
these clothes, this laundry... was all mine.
and it was my responsibility to wash them and fold them.
i actually never knew how to use a washing machine until last year.
finally learning to do so was rewarding in and of itself.
laundry, to me, used to be a collection of my family's clothes,
my family's experiences,
my family's memories.
transitioning to being more independent,
my laundry now only consists of my own clothes,
my own experiences,
my own memories,
and my own new clothes in the pile,
some of which have never even mingled with that of my family's.
soon, all of my current clothes will become too worn and dirty,
and my entire laundry pile will consist completely of new clothes.
clothes only familiar with my experiences and memories.
and eventually,
laundry, to me, will become my own family's clothes.
someday, i'll be folding tiny baby clothes of my own children,
again folding women's clothing of my significant other,
and way in the future, when they're big enough,
i'll be mixing up my children's clothes with my own.
as long as i don't leave the house naked
or wear nasty, worn clothes everyday,
laundry will always be there.
there will never be a time in my life without laundry.
it will only continue to cycle through,
clean, dirty, clean, dirty,
and i can observe my life's development
through the clothes i fold.
all i know is that
laundry is change,
laundry is new beginnings,
laundry is independence,
laundry is love.
even as i write,
i have a pile of dirty clothes behind me waiting to get cleaned,
and a pile of warm, freshly folded clothes sitting happily in my cabinet.
friends, loved ones,
one of these days,
let's all get together and fold each other's clothes for old time's sake.
ain't no better way to show love.
hey friend,
can i fold your clothes?


1.19.08, 12:20 a.m.