Change

I have always loved moving. I love the idea of going to a place and filling it with yourself. I think that's why I lived in 4 different places during college. I never much liked packing up all my things (you reach that point where you just want to throw away everything that isn't packed), but I loved unpacking and sorting and placing. "You live here now," I mentally said to my belongings as I placed them in the spot where they could be found until I moved again.



One thing I have always experienced as a result of moving is how the physical process only takes a day or two, but the mental process consumes weeks. I'm moving home in a couple of weeks, but I feel like I'm already checked out of my life here in Nevada. All I can think of is traveling home, the car ride, cleaning my room and making space for my new stuff. My room is filled with items of my past, when I was 10 up until I was 18. I have not actually called that room home since I went to college. Sure, I lived in it for a few summers, but the majority of my time was spent in Spokane.

When I'm about to move, cleaning becomes impossible. I fall into the trap of thinking that since I'm leaving and will have to pack up everything anyways, I don't need to clean. If I'm moving away from a place that I probably won't visit again, I also find it difficult to maintain friendships. I realize this makes me a horrible horrible person, and you are fit to judge me accordingly, but I guess it's all in the spirit of being efficient.

I'm excited. I'm nervous. And I'm unsure of the future, which has always both driven and worried me. But at least I'm moving.