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Digging Scrapes
Nov. 6th, 2008 05:29 pm
I'm never really sure how to feel about moving. Most of the time when I'm saying my goodbyes my emotions go through this curious change where they fade into the background so I can take care of all the logistics. That's where I am right now; boxes need to be packed, furniture needs to be broken down, the timeframe to do all of this is rapidly shrinking. Every second counts.
When I hit this stage it's difficult to sleep. Even though I'm exhausted my mind keeps asking all of these questions that need answers now. Did I remember not to pack this thing, because I'll need it before I move? Did I remember to donate the stuff I don't want any more? How am I going to transport all of this stuff? Did I remember to mark the boxes so I know what goes where? On and on, until I manage to squeeze two or three hours of sleep out of the night before the alarm goes off.
I'm pretty sure I'm like this because I don't want to think about the destruction of my routine. As much as I don't like to admit it, I've become a creature of habits; I have a little warren that I retreat to, with everything I need within arm's reach. When my sense of place begins to break down, my brain just goes frantic until I'm able to claim a territory again. I become a wanderer, without a home, without an anchor, so things just...change in their importance. I believe the term for it is hlessil.
I managed to avoid that mindset until yesterday, when![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toob took the living room table over to the new apartment. That table has been the rally point for our group ever since I've been here. We eat dinners together there. We watch TV around it. We play all of our games there. Even though mut's room was getting increasingly bare, and the living room was filling with boxes, I still had a sense of place because, well, the table was still around.
There was, briefly, an empty spot where the table used to be before more boxes claimed it, and just like that my little warren is busted up. It hit me just then. We're moving.
We saw Mat off earlier this morning. I think we might have been both too tired to cry, and I've been struggling with the reality of it for a while now, but it's beginning to sink in that one of my best friends here is gone to a very far-off place and it will be a while before I see him again. I keep having this crazy thought that I can't wait to tell Mat about how difficult it is to parse that he's gone when I get home. Even though we've known this was going to happen for a year, the disconnect feels very sudden. I'm going to miss him terribly, and he's influenced me so much; he's shown me how to be frighteningly intelligent without being condescending, how to make a perfect cup of tea, how to be quietly, earnestly faithful, how to be interested in the world around you. He's an amazing person, and I've learned a lot from him. I'll especially miss his accent. *sniff*
This weekend we'll be packing up everything we own and moving to Campbell, where we'll try to make our own home with it. I'm honestly excited about it; this feels like the final piece of the puzzle in a slow transformation that's been happening over the latter part of the year. I mentioned last year (the year I only *thought* I turned 28) how all the cells in one's body are completely new every seven years, and how that idea is so captivating. When I think back on the person I was at 21, he really does feel like a different guy. He's confused and wounded about September 11th, and he works in an awful job at a convenience store down the street, and he lives in a house built on top of the Trail of Tears that should have been condemned. He's messy and sleep-deprived and emotional, and he's been in bad relationships that have closed him up tight from just about everyone. It'll take him seven years to even begin to correct this.
This is where my brain goes when it doesn't have an anchor, so you'll have to bear with these kinds of thoughts for a few days more. :)
In short, all is well, if busy. I'm embarking on another big change and it'll take a little while before I'll feel settled again. But I will, likely by Christmas. Which I *absolutely* can't wait for!
When I hit this stage it's difficult to sleep. Even though I'm exhausted my mind keeps asking all of these questions that need answers now. Did I remember not to pack this thing, because I'll need it before I move? Did I remember to donate the stuff I don't want any more? How am I going to transport all of this stuff? Did I remember to mark the boxes so I know what goes where? On and on, until I manage to squeeze two or three hours of sleep out of the night before the alarm goes off.
I'm pretty sure I'm like this because I don't want to think about the destruction of my routine. As much as I don't like to admit it, I've become a creature of habits; I have a little warren that I retreat to, with everything I need within arm's reach. When my sense of place begins to break down, my brain just goes frantic until I'm able to claim a territory again. I become a wanderer, without a home, without an anchor, so things just...change in their importance. I believe the term for it is hlessil.
I managed to avoid that mindset until yesterday, when
toob took the living room table over to the new apartment. That table has been the rally point for our group ever since I've been here. We eat dinners together there. We watch TV around it. We play all of our games there. Even though mut's room was getting increasingly bare, and the living room was filling with boxes, I still had a sense of place because, well, the table was still around.There was, briefly, an empty spot where the table used to be before more boxes claimed it, and just like that my little warren is busted up. It hit me just then. We're moving.
We saw Mat off earlier this morning. I think we might have been both too tired to cry, and I've been struggling with the reality of it for a while now, but it's beginning to sink in that one of my best friends here is gone to a very far-off place and it will be a while before I see him again. I keep having this crazy thought that I can't wait to tell Mat about how difficult it is to parse that he's gone when I get home. Even though we've known this was going to happen for a year, the disconnect feels very sudden. I'm going to miss him terribly, and he's influenced me so much; he's shown me how to be frighteningly intelligent without being condescending, how to make a perfect cup of tea, how to be quietly, earnestly faithful, how to be interested in the world around you. He's an amazing person, and I've learned a lot from him. I'll especially miss his accent. *sniff*
This weekend we'll be packing up everything we own and moving to Campbell, where we'll try to make our own home with it. I'm honestly excited about it; this feels like the final piece of the puzzle in a slow transformation that's been happening over the latter part of the year. I mentioned last year (the year I only *thought* I turned 28) how all the cells in one's body are completely new every seven years, and how that idea is so captivating. When I think back on the person I was at 21, he really does feel like a different guy. He's confused and wounded about September 11th, and he works in an awful job at a convenience store down the street, and he lives in a house built on top of the Trail of Tears that should have been condemned. He's messy and sleep-deprived and emotional, and he's been in bad relationships that have closed him up tight from just about everyone. It'll take him seven years to even begin to correct this.
This is where my brain goes when it doesn't have an anchor, so you'll have to bear with these kinds of thoughts for a few days more. :)
In short, all is well, if busy. I'm embarking on another big change and it'll take a little while before I'll feel settled again. But I will, likely by Christmas. Which I *absolutely* can't wait for!
