For the past few months, I’ve been intrigued by the concept of what I am calling “human geography” – the mapping of my daily life. Not just how my car steers itself to Starbucks for my iced black tea, but the way I live in my environments. My desk. My kitchen. My bedside table.
I became mesmerized by my dressing table. So at the end of several weeks, I’ve stopped to snap a photo before I clean. I usually tidy up my room on Sundays. That’s when time stands a bit more still for me.
In the wreckage that remains on that surface, I can clearly see my week. Events. Work. Patron parties. Nights out. Charity luncheons. Sometimes I can see the change of season by the weight and scale of the necklaces left in my wake and not put away.
This week ended with AIDS Walk. I wear my red ribbons sporadically all year long, but, in the week butting up to the Walk, I am daily in my pursuit of conversation starters pinned to my lapel. It works. It’s called awareness for a reason. Clerks at the bank asked if I was walking. My server at Starbucks. A customer.
I don’t think this is really a science, human geography. But I am still going to watch for the minute details that show me my way through my rich, full life.
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