I was wrong when I said "things never work out right"
The assault on my room continues. I've already hauled 5 bags of trash out of here, in the past 3 hours, not to mention filled 2 bags of clothes, 1 box of books, 1 box of shoes, and 1 box of Random Stuff, all earmarked for the Good Will. I had forgotten how emotionally exhausting moving is. Mostly because this time it's not a simple matter of boxing everything up and moving it all from one place to another.
The hardest part is parting with, oddly, old notebooks that are only half-empty. That, and finding letters and pictures from people I haven't talked to in years, or are no longer friends with, or, a few times, who have since died. What do you do with a book that you loved as a child, read 4 or 5 times, but haven't touched in years and probably won't ever again? I gave it to the Goodwill. I can't think of what else I should have done with it.
Slightly less melodramatic, I have found SO much old artwork, both my own (yes, I used to do art, in high school, BE AFRAID) and my friends' more talented efforts. If I had a scanner I'd upload some of the really horrible ones, most of which are mine, back when I thought it was so amazingly clever of me to not-so-subtley rip off Rumiko Takashi's style simply because it happened to be fairly easy (OR SO I THOUGHT). My mom came upstairs to find me laughing so hard I had tears running down my face.
I'm keeping most of the old pictures and notes I passed with friends, communal notebooks we wrote in, that sort of thing. I suppose I ought to throw more of it away, but I really just can't. I'm not bringing it with me, though. Well, not ALL of it. Supposedly I'm going to get it from my mom when she moves out west at some distant point in the future. I guess this is how these things work. I can't cart 23 years' worth of "MEMORIEEEZ" cross-country with me, though, seriously...
I just feel like some kind of cretin or philistine, going through box after box of stuff and throwing so much of it away. I HATE feeling like I'm wasting things, whether it's a past opportunity (that project I never finished! this story I never completed! that shirt I never wore!) or a more physical thing, like... those notebooks. Half-empty, the other half filled with notes I took in some class. Why the hell was I so obsessive-compulsive that all or most of my classes had to have THEIR OWN NOTEBOOK? Biggest waste of paper in the world. God.
Also, CD jewel cases. I have only a vague idea where half the CDs are that originally came in all these damn jewel cases under my bed—I am revolted by the idea of stuffing them all in the trash, though it's probably the smartest option.
I'm not interested in clinging to every little thing; that's giving the past too much power over the present, and it kind of defeats the purpose of wanting to move and get a clean start in the first place. But wow, this is hard.
Also, I can't stop sneezing. Goddamn dust bunnies.
The hardest part is parting with, oddly, old notebooks that are only half-empty. That, and finding letters and pictures from people I haven't talked to in years, or are no longer friends with, or, a few times, who have since died. What do you do with a book that you loved as a child, read 4 or 5 times, but haven't touched in years and probably won't ever again? I gave it to the Goodwill. I can't think of what else I should have done with it.
Slightly less melodramatic, I have found SO much old artwork, both my own (yes, I used to do art, in high school, BE AFRAID) and my friends' more talented efforts. If I had a scanner I'd upload some of the really horrible ones, most of which are mine, back when I thought it was so amazingly clever of me to not-so-subtley rip off Rumiko Takashi's style simply because it happened to be fairly easy (OR SO I THOUGHT). My mom came upstairs to find me laughing so hard I had tears running down my face.
I'm keeping most of the old pictures and notes I passed with friends, communal notebooks we wrote in, that sort of thing. I suppose I ought to throw more of it away, but I really just can't. I'm not bringing it with me, though. Well, not ALL of it. Supposedly I'm going to get it from my mom when she moves out west at some distant point in the future. I guess this is how these things work. I can't cart 23 years' worth of "MEMORIEEEZ" cross-country with me, though, seriously...
I just feel like some kind of cretin or philistine, going through box after box of stuff and throwing so much of it away. I HATE feeling like I'm wasting things, whether it's a past opportunity (that project I never finished! this story I never completed! that shirt I never wore!) or a more physical thing, like... those notebooks. Half-empty, the other half filled with notes I took in some class. Why the hell was I so obsessive-compulsive that all or most of my classes had to have THEIR OWN NOTEBOOK? Biggest waste of paper in the world. God.
Also, CD jewel cases. I have only a vague idea where half the CDs are that originally came in all these damn jewel cases under my bed—I am revolted by the idea of stuffing them all in the trash, though it's probably the smartest option.
I'm not interested in clinging to every little thing; that's giving the past too much power over the present, and it kind of defeats the purpose of wanting to move and get a clean start in the first place. But wow, this is hard.
Also, I can't stop sneezing. Goddamn dust bunnies.