(no subject)
Baggage
I'm all moved in. There's boxes and bags and tape everywhere still. I have so much to set up and throw out and change over. I never really feel like my new dwelling is "home" until living in it for about two months. It feels like dorming until some rainy day that I feel good being wrapped up in bed spooning myself.
I threw a lot out and I'm proud of that. I tend to hold onto every silly reminder that I don't ever need because I never really forget anything.
I'm not completely unpacked yet, and I have to begin packing for my Europe trip. I leave on Saturday. Luggage has become a major theme in my life. The idea that we're always toting around things that we depend on whether they're material or not. Thoughts that follow you, suspicions you don't shake, quotes you don't forget, all the international hangovers you don't learn from - you can't ship any of it home.
Be it blocks or continents, I suppose we're always leaving the old versions of ourselves behind somewhere. Along with them, some vague clues : hilarious additions to hotel bibles, lost bookmarks on the plane, used dinner napkins, 4,000 skin cells per minute, pieces of shoe fibers, and the breakdown of expectations that fly off into whatever realm they go to.
Via the graduating class of 2007, lots of people are leaving my whole world indefinitly this week. It's more romantic than depressing it its own way.
The summer approaches and under the death-like humidity, I'm eating cherries and sweating out and shedding all the mental toxins built up over the previous three seasons. It feels sweet and calm.