shine a light

listening: “Blue Skies”, Groove Armada

Three hundred and fity nine days ago, I was doing the exact same thing I’m doing right now.

Packing.

Yes, this year from hell has finally come to an end. In exactly seven days and one half hour my life here in Manchester will be officially done. I am going through my belongings, throwing stuff out and wrapping things in newspaper, an act I have done four times in the last two years. And, just a note, I LOVE wrapping stuff in newspaper. I like the smell.

It’s not even that I have a lot of stuff anymore. Most of it was thrown out or left in Marlborough when I moved in September of 2004. My first apartment in Manchester looked like a refugee camp…or, more accurately, Grace Adler’s apartment. I still had stuff in boxes. I know what that means. It means that I don’t feel that I will be in that place for very long. If I don’t feel comfortable, I don’t unpack. And now, in the most uncomfortable place in the world, all my shit is sans boxes. It means I thought I would get comfortable. All I did was go a little nuts. Now I have to sort through it again and decide what I can part with. I really can go either way with things…total packrat or total minimalist. I have a lot of crap I’ve hung onto for YEARS. Stuff that never left the box when I moved from the Main Street apartment into the Cottage Street Upstairs apartment. Why do I hold onto things? It’s not even like it holds emotional value anymore…the motorized monster truck Jen Baker gave me for my 18th birthday, the plastic frog the Freaks from Room 15 gave me at Simon’s Rock (Ace), various notes from Nick, VHS tapes (I no longer own a VCR), over ten bottles or tubes of dried up lipstick and nail polish in ugly colors I’ve never worn. A lot of the stuff I’m throwing out is trash, stuff I’ve been too lazy to throw up in the last four months. My sister still even has stuff here. It’s kind of hard to believe that this time next week I’ll never have to set foot in Manchvegas again if I don’t want to. Sure, I’ll miss people at work (which was actually used as an attempt to sway my decision by someone) but I’ll get over it.

And who am I living for, anyway? Work…or me?

Before New Year’s I learned the decision was made that I would be back in Keene by February 1st, meaning I only have to live in a hotel for two weeks instead of indefinitely. I didn’t really believe it the first time I heard it because, unfortunately, I’ve learned that most things said in my company are either taken back or denied eventually. So when I heard it again, for rizzle, I couldn’t believe it. How can one simple sentence make me so giddy? I’m just glad that I’m going back to Keene. Maybe I’ll regret it…but I TOTALLY doubt it.

My sister moved to Cambridge the second week of December and her apartment is frickin’ sweet. She’s living my dream, folks. She deserves all good things.

I am typing this right now on my new baby…`rents got me a laptop for Christmas….for school….yeah….school….that’s the ticket! Seriously, Franklin Pierce looms in my future for next fall. I’m looking forward to getting back in there. Meanwhile, said laptop plays my music and extensive SNL clip librairy and lets me surf. I’m happy.

I will be more happy when I am sleeping under my parents’ roof again–safe, warm and home.

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