|This is more or less what my room looks like right now. But more clothes. Lots of books and clothes EVERYWHERE. ANd it's amazing what comes up when you Google Image search "pile of stuff"|
Moving is always an interesting process. And it is a process. One of self-discovery actually.
Right now I'm in the middle of switching bedrooms in my house. This, of course, forced me to go through all the stuff that I have just laying around. Stuff I'd forgotten that I had. Stuff I knew I had, but didn't know where. I found tickets and a program in an old bag from 6 years ago when I went to the Cedar City Shakespeare Festival with the Honors Program and the girls who are now some of my best friends. I found my tap shoes, both the really beat up ones from when I did Millie senior year of high school and the nicer ones I got my second semester of tap here. I found Russia/mission memorabilia, probably over a hundred essays and literature tests, and pictures from various years. I realized just how many books I have--and how much EVERYTHING I have. It really is quite amazing to think, "Okay, I am just one person. And I have been collecting this stuff essentially for 24 years, but mostly just the past 6. AND I HAVE THIS MUCH STUFF! I can only imagine how much stuff my parents have! (Approximate answer: multiply that by 10 people and an extra 15-20 years)."
I really hate packing things up, but really, I don't even have to pack up this time, and going through things stimulates the whole process of rediscovery and remembering who you have been and who you are. Which is probably why it's so hard for me to throw things away. Because things, or more appropriately the people and experiences the objects represent to me, become a part of my life and my soul and me so deeply and so quickly. I love looking back and reminiscing and seeing how far I've come. It's an odd feeling to look at something you know was very important to you 3 years ago and now the only thing that is tempting you to keep it is that you're partially sad it's not important to you anymore. But moving on is good. And not everything needs to be like that, either. There's also something very special about the feeling seeing a picture of you and your best friend at the Boise Zoo in 4th Grade, and smiling because that picture was taken 15 years ago and you're still best friends and the only thing that's changed is . . . well, not much in a lot of the important aspects. :) It's made me really grateful for this little moving experience, especially coming to the end of my college career.
And you know what, as long as I don't turn into one of those creepy hoarder people (which there is no way, don't worry, I've seen way too many real-life examples), I love being kind of a pack rat. Because it's been a good 6 years. It's been a good 15 years. Heck, it's been a great 24 years here on this Earth so far. And I have a room and soul full of heartfelt junk to prove it.