Moving

August 13, 2007 3:13 AM

o, I'm not moving--yet. My landlord has allowed me to extend my lease until the end of September, at which time I will--hopefully--have some idea what the fuck I'm doing with my life. Still, I've been helping a lot of my friends move because, as students, this is the time of the year when all of our leases end. And, while I'm always more than happy to help my friends move, the whole thing has got me thinking about how much I fucking hate moving. Packing up my life into a few boxes and dragging it somewhere is just about the worst thing I can think of. The whole process is tedious, depressing, and exhausting.

It's tedious because I have a lot of crap. I don't have a lot of big crap: there's just my guitar stuff, my bed, my coffee table, my desk, and my couch. That's all the big crap. But I have a lot of small stuff. CDs, books, poker chips, silverware, plates, pictures, trinkets, electronics--it's just too much to think about. When you move, you have to find all that crap, decide whether you want to keep it, and then put it somewhere. This is a problem for me because I bet that I've forgotten about approximately 90 percent of the stuff I own. When I move, I know that I'll be emptying the drawers of my desk, find something, and think "Oh, fuck, I haven't seen this in about two years." And then I'll have to decide whether to keep it or get rid of it. My mom's the world's biggest packrat, and, although I hate that I inherited this particular aspect of my mother's personality, I am my mother's son. Which basically means that I've been accumulating completely worthless crap for some time now, a trend that's likely to continue through my next move.

Moving is depressing because it almost always signals a radical shift in one's life. As a student--which is the only life I've ever really known--when you move, chances are your friends are moving, too. And with that many people moving, some people are likely to move away, which, of course, sucks. This has already happened to me--Bluebunny recently departed for Chicago, and RPM will join her shortly. And, of course, Mr. Utah has been banished to the BRF, or the "Northern Wastes," as I think they should be called.

I've only moved four times in my life. The first place I remember living was this trailer in Nogales. In fact, some of my earliest memories involve being pissed that we were moving from there. But we did move, to a house in Nogales where I lived for over a decade until I moved to Flagstaff for college. After the deterioration of my initial living situation, I moved in with my family, who had, by this point, moved to Flagstaff themselves. The, of course, I moved to Madison. Fourt times. And each one involved a lot of ridiculous changes, ended relationships, and missed friends. This next time will be no different, but hopefully there won't be any outright hostilities. That only happened once, but it sucked.

And, of course, moving is exhausting. It's not necessarily that there's a lot of stuff to lift. I can lift stuff without complaining too much, although it certainly sucks. But moving--when you're the person moving--is exhausting because you have to think about packing and then pack and then move stuff. And then you have to unpack. When you're helping someone move, you show up, lift some boxes, and then you're done. But when it's you that's moving, the whole process is up to you, and it fucking sucks.

On the whole, of course, the process is worth it: there are lots of new opportunities and new people to meet. But let me break down my life for you right now: I get up pretty late, look for jobs, do some work, watch TV, play video games, and hang out with my friends. For the next few weeks--or until I'm forced to take some menial job for which I am ridiculously over qualified--I have very few responsibilities. And it's awesome. And--I daresay--I deserve it on some level. And, what's more, lots of my friends are right here with me.

I don't know if you've ever had the urge to sort of put your life on pause. Like, where you would, if you could, freeze the development of your life and just live your life in the exact same way forever. I'd pause my life right now. It would be awesome.

But, of course, I can't do that. No, instead, I've got to move. And far sooner than I'm willing to admit.

3 Comments

tRJ said:

Four times? That's it?! You lucky bastard. Even if I don't count having to move in and out of dorms every year in college, I've still moved 10 times. God it sucks.

August 13, 2007 8:38 AM

dicta said:

i actually find moving exciting, provided it's to a new place. however, i completely agree that the actual process of moving sucks.

August 13, 2007 4:05 PM

lily graypure said:

I hate moving, too. I don't mind unpacking, but packing and finding all my crap and putting it in boxes and trying to be organized just sucks ass.

My Dad is also a packrat. Every now and then, we'll go through a point in time where Dad thinks he will help me go through all my stuff, throw out what I don't need, and organize the things I do need. I'll go to throw out an almost-empty spiral notebook, and he'll put it aside so that he can have it. A wooden dowel I don't know why I have? Dad will take that, too. Stuffed animals I didn't even like when I still played with stuffed animals? Dad thinks I should keep them for nostalgia's sake. The only things Dad ever really thinks I should get rid of are clothes and books. It's like the man doesn't know me at all.

August 16, 2007 7:32 PM

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