I'm not actually moving across the world. I know. But when you've lived in one city all your life, and you're suddenly packing that life into six boxes, one suitcase, one duffel bag, and one trunk-- all of which you're mostly certain is not going to fit in your dorm room-- and planning your twelve-hour drive from Atlanta, GA to Oberlin, OH, it feels like you're moving from Atlanta to Shanghai.
It's daunting.
But it's kind of okay, when you're still not finished packing the summer clothes you're beginning to realize you're not really going to need because winter lasts three months longer in virtually any place that isn't Georgia, because it's not real yet. I have yet to put away the essentials like laptops and toothpaste (because those are exactly the same kind of essential), and the majority of the clothes I might wear in the next seven days are still in my closet or two remaining drawers of clothes. ... It's so not going to fit in my room, is it?
And I open one drawer where I've always kept my underwear (because you wanted to know, didn't you), and then I remember that I dumped all of it into the duffel bag, which doesn't explain why that duffel bag will no longer fit anything else but old socks and underwear that I probably should have sorted through before I put it away. Guess who's going to be packing and re-packing all week for this one? Never mind that I shoved three pairs of boots into the bag on to of all that and sat on the top of the bag while pulling the zipper shut, praying to God that the bag wouldn't rip since I bought it three days ago, and now, I'm going to have to open it back up to sort again, and in all likelihood, those boots are going to explode all up in my face.
I should find some sort of helmet or something. Packing is a dangerous business.
And among the old things packed, I have too many "new" things to consider, if when I say "new" I mean my sister's old, baby cube-esque refrigerator begrudgingly retrieved from storage, the old printer my dad needs an excuse to get rid of because he wants one that doesn't print with a shadow that makes your brain go fuzzy when you try to read what you just printed, and every piece of bedroom accessories that I decided I was going to just pull out of the closet because I'm the last child out of the house and my parents certainly don't need it.
Ah, the glories of not taking that massive shopping trip to Bed, Bath, and Beyond that you need a U-Haul to get everything home from.
Plus, the parentals were all, "If you want new stuff, you're using the graduation money you got from a zillion relatives to pay for it." And I was like, "I think I'll save that to feed myself, thanks!" Hey. Recycling. I'm living in the environmentally-aware freshmen dorm anyone. Let's just say I got an early jump on all this, yeah?
But there is actual new stuff, like the cell phone I just got to replace the three-year-old, once-dropped-in-a-toilet-two-years-ago, doesn't-operate-in-the-humidity-because-you-clearly-over-exposed-it-to-water-damage, really-banged-up-and-has-taken-damage-like-a-tank-because-it's-a-nokia cell I've been holding on to for a year longer than I should have because it flashed rainbows at me any time I had a message waiting or when it went into screen-saver mode.
I'm still kind of in mourning, even if my new phone is adorable, squat, and framed in lime green because it's my favourite colour. But seriously. How do you replace the lost rainbows?!
It's an issue.
Meanwhile, I owe about ten people phone calls because I've been buried in packing and procrastination of packing, then I went and got a new phone and improperly screened calls I didn't recognize because I hadn't put all the numbers in yet. Oops. Eventually, I swear, I will call you back.
Also, because I'm one of the last of my high school friends still at home. There's clearly a miscommunication between northern and southern schools, seeing as everyone south of Virginia started school one or two weeks ago, while I've been at home, still obsessing, re-packing, and pretending that I have everything done while I've done absolutely nothing. I think this is done to discourage people from migrating north; just drive them insane with anticipation and anxiety by giving them three extra weeks to be anal about what's not yet happening.
And, give them time to stress about the fact that they're completely unequipped for winter, and there are no local stores that have a clue as to what they might need. Oh. My. God. If nothing else, I have no hope of grasping what it's like to be suddenly doused in more than an inch of snow. Snow boots? What?! I bought a parka from Land's End, and that's about the extent of my prepared-ness. Everyone's told me I have no idea, that I have no way to prepare myself for a real winter (thanks for all the support, guys!), so I decided, "Fuck all!" I'll deal with it as it comes. Somewhere between Oberlin and Cleveland, there's an outlet mall with my name on it. Or which ever parent's name is going to be on the emergency credit card that's going to be paying the damages. Heh...eh... H'ooooooh dear....
I'm reminded of a song from some musical I can't remember. I could Google it, but I'm too lazy.
"Why, oh, whyyyyyyyyyyyyy, oh, why-oh...
Why did I ever leave Ohio?"
... It's not a song I should have stuck in my head, seeing as it's not exactly the position I'm in yet. But then again, I'm hard-pressed to think of good rhymes for "Georgia." State names seem particularly tricky...
I shall ponder this while packing, I think. While also trying to rid myself of the only two lines of that song that I remember as they repeat over and over and over and over...
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