Enpacando Otra Vez
1 little box, 2 little box, 3 little box...
Packing my life into boxes. Wrapping my statues in bubble wrap and paper. Writing out the long, detailed list of what is inside each box, because Australia is that anal. Throwing papers away! Throwing shoes and socks I've kept stubbornly although they have massive holes. Stuffing my jewelry boxes and tin boxes with all kinds of brouhaha, like incense sticks and Voodoo hearts. Piles and piles of books, notebooks, magazines, shoes, shirts, dresses. Piles! Why do I keep so much junk?! Why am I not one of those people that throws away her stuff when she relocates: someone who goes through life and never keeps a book or a movie, buys no Cds, gives away her things to people randomly, and tosses her clothes away and vows to buy more once she relocates. Hmmm. Then, I wouldn't have so much junk to pack. At least there is no furniture involved this time around!
I certainly hope this is the last time I'm packing my entire life into boxes. Jimminy Cricket. I don't want to bubble wrap my angels anymore! I hope Australia is my last stop. That I don't pick up and move anywhere else on the map. For the love of Magellan, knock me over with a baseball bat if I decide to relocate anywhere else, ok? Ha ha! Australia will be my last stop, period! I will work hard to make it work, to establish myself and be sucessful amongst the kangaroos and poisoneous snakes. No ifs, ands, or buts!
Jimminy Cricket!
Ha ha! It's funny how one's life comes into perspective when one packs. Memories flash through, old times crawl up on ya, and you see the last few years ever so much clearer. It would be useless to say I did not grow, learn, and have a heck of a lot of fun while I live in England. That would be silly! I do remember when I fussled and yuzzled to get here. I remember how excited I was! I couldn't wait to live in England! I read the booklets and had maps, and dreamt of all the places I'd go to and explore. I would read and read over the pamphlets the Uni sent me, telling me all about Leicester and the Midlands. I had dreams, aspirations, desires, passions! I came to England with such a desire to change my life, to open my mind, to find a Newness...
Two years later, I am packing to leave. To go to Australia. I never, ever imagined this would be how it would end. I pictured I'd meet a Scotts man, and I'd move to Glasgow. I'd pictured I'd meet a Welsh man and I'd move to Wales. I never imagined I'd meet an Aussie. Oh, boy.
I suppose a part of me is a bit sad, because I didn't finish what I came to do here. It hurts a bit that I wasted money, time, and people's feelings over a dream I didn't see come true. Just a bit. A larger part of me is aware what I truly wanted to find here was love and acceptance. Love from my parents and sisters, love from a boy, new friends, and acceptance stemming from me. I did those things. It makes me happy to be packing, for once, to head off and start a life of my own. Moving in with someone who loves me, ready to start settling down in a city and making roots, with that someone I love. For the last few years I've been a bit bummed that I didn't have a steady love, or a steady life. Well! Those things are over! I am happy to pack my gargantuan piles of clothes and know that they will be going to my Mother-in-Law, and then to a home of my own. Of my very, very own! One my love and I will choose and grow to love. That I will once more head out to Job Interviews with my polished resume, and once more walk into classrooms full of children.
Scary!
Yes, it is scary. I've been away from teaching for a bit, slightly scared and disappointed. I've been away from responsabilities. I wouldn't lie to you, mate. However, as I throw away my old check books, I realize that I actually want my responsabilities. I want a new job. I want to start solving my own credit card mess. I want to start paying my own bills. [Hmmm. Bills. Can't say I'm smiling when it comes to bills.] But, I am happy to regain my responsabilities, once I am settled and can afford to regain them fully. I am thankful for those who have helped me carry those bills these last few years. I'd be nothing without my supporters. [Thanks Mc, Mom, and Pop!] The only thing scarier than bills, I suppose, is the fact that I'll be starting from scratch! At least, this time around I won't be totally alone, since Mm will be there with me, but I don't want to eat up all her time, since she must be even more excited inside than I am. For her, this is truly a change from the Old to the New. Amazing, and scary. No friends. No support team. I'm gonna have to start making friends and doing my best to keep them, and not make stupid mistakes. Ooooh, boy. That part alone is as scary as the hot cauldrons of Hell.
But, I can do it. Rest you assured, I can do it. It's rainy, muggy, cold, windy, foggy and cloudy outside. My room is bare and yucky without my pictures, statues, and colourful knickknacks, which I love too much! But, I am at peace. Only 16 days until England is nothing but a memory...
Pieces of paper in my wooden box. Pictures in my butterfly photo album. Bits of conversations remembered late at night. Stubs of movie tickets. Paragraphs in my journals. Statues from some pretty corner shop. Poems. Letters. Names of restaurants.
Fragments.
Packing my life into boxes. Wrapping my statues in bubble wrap and paper. Writing out the long, detailed list of what is inside each box, because Australia is that anal. Throwing papers away! Throwing shoes and socks I've kept stubbornly although they have massive holes. Stuffing my jewelry boxes and tin boxes with all kinds of brouhaha, like incense sticks and Voodoo hearts. Piles and piles of books, notebooks, magazines, shoes, shirts, dresses. Piles! Why do I keep so much junk?! Why am I not one of those people that throws away her stuff when she relocates: someone who goes through life and never keeps a book or a movie, buys no Cds, gives away her things to people randomly, and tosses her clothes away and vows to buy more once she relocates. Hmmm. Then, I wouldn't have so much junk to pack. At least there is no furniture involved this time around!
I certainly hope this is the last time I'm packing my entire life into boxes. Jimminy Cricket. I don't want to bubble wrap my angels anymore! I hope Australia is my last stop. That I don't pick up and move anywhere else on the map. For the love of Magellan, knock me over with a baseball bat if I decide to relocate anywhere else, ok? Ha ha! Australia will be my last stop, period! I will work hard to make it work, to establish myself and be sucessful amongst the kangaroos and poisoneous snakes. No ifs, ands, or buts!
Jimminy Cricket!
Ha ha! It's funny how one's life comes into perspective when one packs. Memories flash through, old times crawl up on ya, and you see the last few years ever so much clearer. It would be useless to say I did not grow, learn, and have a heck of a lot of fun while I live in England. That would be silly! I do remember when I fussled and yuzzled to get here. I remember how excited I was! I couldn't wait to live in England! I read the booklets and had maps, and dreamt of all the places I'd go to and explore. I would read and read over the pamphlets the Uni sent me, telling me all about Leicester and the Midlands. I had dreams, aspirations, desires, passions! I came to England with such a desire to change my life, to open my mind, to find a Newness...
Two years later, I am packing to leave. To go to Australia. I never, ever imagined this would be how it would end. I pictured I'd meet a Scotts man, and I'd move to Glasgow. I'd pictured I'd meet a Welsh man and I'd move to Wales. I never imagined I'd meet an Aussie. Oh, boy.
I suppose a part of me is a bit sad, because I didn't finish what I came to do here. It hurts a bit that I wasted money, time, and people's feelings over a dream I didn't see come true. Just a bit. A larger part of me is aware what I truly wanted to find here was love and acceptance. Love from my parents and sisters, love from a boy, new friends, and acceptance stemming from me. I did those things. It makes me happy to be packing, for once, to head off and start a life of my own. Moving in with someone who loves me, ready to start settling down in a city and making roots, with that someone I love. For the last few years I've been a bit bummed that I didn't have a steady love, or a steady life. Well! Those things are over! I am happy to pack my gargantuan piles of clothes and know that they will be going to my Mother-in-Law, and then to a home of my own. Of my very, very own! One my love and I will choose and grow to love. That I will once more head out to Job Interviews with my polished resume, and once more walk into classrooms full of children.
Scary!
Yes, it is scary. I've been away from teaching for a bit, slightly scared and disappointed. I've been away from responsabilities. I wouldn't lie to you, mate. However, as I throw away my old check books, I realize that I actually want my responsabilities. I want a new job. I want to start solving my own credit card mess. I want to start paying my own bills. [Hmmm. Bills. Can't say I'm smiling when it comes to bills.] But, I am happy to regain my responsabilities, once I am settled and can afford to regain them fully. I am thankful for those who have helped me carry those bills these last few years. I'd be nothing without my supporters. [Thanks Mc, Mom, and Pop!] The only thing scarier than bills, I suppose, is the fact that I'll be starting from scratch! At least, this time around I won't be totally alone, since Mm will be there with me, but I don't want to eat up all her time, since she must be even more excited inside than I am. For her, this is truly a change from the Old to the New. Amazing, and scary. No friends. No support team. I'm gonna have to start making friends and doing my best to keep them, and not make stupid mistakes. Ooooh, boy. That part alone is as scary as the hot cauldrons of Hell.
But, I can do it. Rest you assured, I can do it. It's rainy, muggy, cold, windy, foggy and cloudy outside. My room is bare and yucky without my pictures, statues, and colourful knickknacks, which I love too much! But, I am at peace. Only 16 days until England is nothing but a memory...
Pieces of paper in my wooden box. Pictures in my butterfly photo album. Bits of conversations remembered late at night. Stubs of movie tickets. Paragraphs in my journals. Statues from some pretty corner shop. Poems. Letters. Names of restaurants.
Fragments.