Things, Carried--A Reflection

I suppose, to start off this blog, I would have to ask, what does it mean to "carry" something? That is, outside of the regular definition. It could be used to display some emotional trauma--carrying a heavy heart--or be used in some idiom--carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. But I guess here I'm going to be somewhat less poetic and somewhat more literal.

For example, every day, pretty much everywhere I go, I carry a small, black, rectangular bag. Most people don't bother to ask what this is, and usually they just don't care. But it's incredibly important to me, and I'd really rather not leave home without it. This, of course, is my handy dandy insulin kit, containing the medicines and machines to keep me alive for at least another day. Oh, by the way, I'm also metaphorically carrying diabetes, if you didn't catch that yet. The weight of diabetes is a heavy one(I swear if you make jokes about my weight here I am going to flip a table), and one which will, metaphorically, hang around my neck for the rest of my life. Also, it's a weight that causes blindness and organ failure, so it's not pleasant to have to carry it. I also try to carry a notebook whereever I go. Sometimes a red one, sometimes blue, sometimes black, green, purple, yellow, I don't care, as long as I've got somewhere to scribble down ideas I have and designs I think of. Do you know how very irritating it is when you think of a really really cool idea for a story, but have nowhere to write it down, and by the time you can, you've forgotten it? Pretty irritating is the answer.