Don't forget your toothbrush

Packing always seems epic. I enjoy it, though. It sort of fits in with my love of containers. More than that, I enjoy the puzzle aspect of it, which is strange since I don't really enjoy many (if any) other kinds of puzzles. I always pack far ahead of time then re-pack about two more times before being satisfied with the way things are organized, which things I'm actually taking with me, sometimes the bag itself will be changed in the process.

With each year of college I've become a more efficient packer. I've brought fewer things with me each time, especially this past semester spent abroad. I came with one large duffel back, a gym-sized over-night bag and my back pack. Pretty respectable, if I do say so myself.

Re-packing everything at the end of each school year has also taken on a bit of an art form. There's a sort of ritualistic way I dismantle the space I live in. First, all excess paper goods are disposed of. Next, most clothes are put away. This usually means things that are either not warm enough or too warm to wear in a given season. The last thing to be packed, aside from toiletries needed on the day of departure, are wall decorations. I can't stand being in a room with bare walls. As I can attest to, it's very difficult to sleep in such rooms. It reminds me just how institutional those spaces are. The strangeness and unfamiliarity of a place are magnified when there are no distractions in it. With pictures and other embellishments I'm able to imbue the space with a meaning all my own, making it a home instead of an enclosed domicile. They also catch sound, making it harder to hear the creeks of building, the rattling of a window or even your own echoing breaths.

“Taking the walls down”, as like to call it, is the closest I can get to removing myself from a place without actually leaving it. “Taking the walls down” means I'm returning it to whoever it truly belongs to. Until it's all down, it's still mine in some capacity. In general, that usually makes it easier to leave a place because it becomes a completely different space as the object in the room were, essentially, what the room was. In essence, I get packed while the room, well that's back to its natural state of roomness, behaving in that way that only empty rooms can behave or understand.

(This might all make more sense after reading yesterday's post.)