Boxes

This is my first blog.
In three days, I'm moving from home to my dorm at UNC.
Disheartening? Yah. You could say that.
I made this blogspot because I want to start writing more. To have something to look back at and laugh at. Isn't that what xanga was all about? I actually wrote a long elaborate blog on myspace only to accidentally delete it using some strange hotkey combination (damn you firefox tab system). Needless to say, it's gone now. I'm rewriting it and making it better. Myspace is for tools anyway right (I keep telling myself I'm an exception but I probably won't delete it for some time).

The filtering of my possessions is something that is done every time I move. Despite this fact, I still end up shuffling through enough things to get distracted by a wave of nostalgia.
I don't know how I got so much stuff. I say stuff in the most loving sense. I wouldn't go as far as to call it junk. What a negative word for such a friendly accumulation of completely unnecessary things! Stuff. My stuff.

I couldn't bring myself to throw anything away. I need to throw so much away. I need to move on, but I don't want to. I'm afraid that letting go of some of these things would be letting go of myself. Who I was before I moved here and who I am now. I have already forgotten so much. In 9th grade, I went through a falling out with some of my closest friends. I deleted most of our pictures out of anger. Now, we've been friends again for quite some time and they bring up memories from before. What's sad is the number of things I can't remember because I let go of so much in my fit. I can't do that again. It means too much to me.

So what do I do? With this stuff...

• the clothes that don't fit (they're cute.. and if i just run some more...)
• the awful gifts (it's the thought that counts)
• the souvenirs
• the souvenir shirts (aka pajamas?)
• the broken camera with immovable pictures from fujikyu
• the necklace from that boy you liked (what if?)
• the letters and passed notes
• the stacks and stacks of papers from years of school (i keep telling myself i might need them)
• the not-so-college-friendly items (i can appreciate my first doll, but can my roommates?)
• the posters and mementos on the wall that i will not bring to my dorm (but i dont love superman any less)
• that jewely you... kinda MIGHT wear
• that makeup your friends never told you looked atrocious (thanks guys. electric blue??)
• the prom invitations (what are you supposed to do with these things anyway?)
• the booklight with a dead bulb (but if you bought another bulb....)
• the countless necklaces from hawaii (they have their time and place of appropriateness)
• the old straightener (backup?)
• the sketchbooks (wow i sucked) (wow i was good) (wow wtf?)
• the christmas stocking (now, how did that get into your room anyway?)
• the thousands of bobby pins you've found (you never know)
• old ceramic projects (they just occupy space in a drawer now)
• the unfinished paintings (it's a great start, but superman would want his phonebooth painted)
• the books you've already read but have connection with (i hated you at the time 1984 but that doesn't mean i'm going to throw you away. get real)
• etc. etc.
  

The list goes on. I ran out of ideas. The point is that I am eventually going to need to throw some of this stuff away. When? What? Why? I don't know. And I don't know how.

And oh yah, I'm a sap.