Hello again, livejournal readers.
packing. moving. oh, my temporary life.
I moved out of the dorms last Friday (good riddance.) and moved home. Moved home isn't really the right phrase, though. Travelled home fits better, as I am only here for two weeks.
My next dropline -> indent? 640 Morris St. My first step in attaining permanency. I will no longer be charged two arms, a leg and an ear to live in a crummy 8x12 cell that kicks me out for a month around Christmas time and weeks here and there. It is freedom, in a way, I suppose, but how free is being able to pack all your belongings in a minivan and relocate in just a few hours?
I guess I've always had this weird fixation with making myself feel permanent- something that I can try to pin on the fact that as a child, I moved around quite a bit. People call me a pack rat, tell me that I own too many things, but being tied down to so many material things makes me feel more like I can't just pack up and move on a whim, like so many college students do. People that have seen my room from this past year can attest to the fact that I make the space my own, decorating it with things that define me (that began as things I defined with my creativity and passion).
Living in this apartment comes as such a comfort to me. I can move in and stay for the contracted year, and depending on how well this works out, sign a lease for another year.
Don't we all just need a place where we feel like we belong?
Now comes the daunting challenge of taking apart my room in my parents house. From the minute I move out of the house and into the apartment, my room is no longer my own. My two year old sister is moving in. My goal is to convince myself to throw out basically a third of the stuff in there, not including furniture, and if it's valuable and in good condition, possibly sell it. Though I'm attempting to gain a feeling of permanence, I really do need to minimize my life. I just own way too much.
Oh, and let me mention now, Kenny will be living in the same room as me for the summer, or at least until August 15th. It seems like a bad idea, but I'm happy to give it a try. What's the worst that could happen? We realize we're getting on eachother's nerves and he goes home for the duration of the summer and gets to stop paying rent. But what's the best that could happen? I get to spend the summer with one of my best friends, getting to know him in a more intimate way then I have gotten to know anybody (barring roommates, but even this is different, obviously, when you throw in the whole lovers aspect- and in case you didn't get it, by intimate, I did not mean sexual, but personal, rather) and growing even closer to somebody I already consider myself the closest with. It promises to be an interesting experience (not to mention a learning one...)
One more thing:
Now all those feelings,
Those yesterday's feelings
Will all be lost in time,
But today,
I've wasted away
Because today
You're on my mind
(okay, so thats not exactly how the lyrics go, but I like it better)
I moved out of the dorms last Friday (good riddance.) and moved home. Moved home isn't really the right phrase, though. Travelled home fits better, as I am only here for two weeks.
My next dropline -> indent? 640 Morris St. My first step in attaining permanency. I will no longer be charged two arms, a leg and an ear to live in a crummy 8x12 cell that kicks me out for a month around Christmas time and weeks here and there. It is freedom, in a way, I suppose, but how free is being able to pack all your belongings in a minivan and relocate in just a few hours?
I guess I've always had this weird fixation with making myself feel permanent- something that I can try to pin on the fact that as a child, I moved around quite a bit. People call me a pack rat, tell me that I own too many things, but being tied down to so many material things makes me feel more like I can't just pack up and move on a whim, like so many college students do. People that have seen my room from this past year can attest to the fact that I make the space my own, decorating it with things that define me (that began as things I defined with my creativity and passion).
Living in this apartment comes as such a comfort to me. I can move in and stay for the contracted year, and depending on how well this works out, sign a lease for another year.
Don't we all just need a place where we feel like we belong?
Now comes the daunting challenge of taking apart my room in my parents house. From the minute I move out of the house and into the apartment, my room is no longer my own. My two year old sister is moving in. My goal is to convince myself to throw out basically a third of the stuff in there, not including furniture, and if it's valuable and in good condition, possibly sell it. Though I'm attempting to gain a feeling of permanence, I really do need to minimize my life. I just own way too much.
Oh, and let me mention now, Kenny will be living in the same room as me for the summer, or at least until August 15th. It seems like a bad idea, but I'm happy to give it a try. What's the worst that could happen? We realize we're getting on eachother's nerves and he goes home for the duration of the summer and gets to stop paying rent. But what's the best that could happen? I get to spend the summer with one of my best friends, getting to know him in a more intimate way then I have gotten to know anybody (barring roommates, but even this is different, obviously, when you throw in the whole lovers aspect- and in case you didn't get it, by intimate, I did not mean sexual, but personal, rather) and growing even closer to somebody I already consider myself the closest with. It promises to be an interesting experience (not to mention a learning one...)
One more thing:
Now all those feelings,
Those yesterday's feelings
Will all be lost in time,
But today,
I've wasted away
Because today
You're on my mind
(okay, so thats not exactly how the lyrics go, but I like it better)