Crushing Krisis

I would just like to point out that of the two Power Bloggers ahead of me right now, one of them only seems to post in one line increments, and the other one has a total of 9 posters. So, really, i am the most powerful blogger on the face of the internet! Mwuhahahahahaha!

(And please note that i refuse to lead you towards the Survivor Blog any more than i just did.) :P      

Shortly after my one-year anniversary in my new house, had to pack up and move to school. This packing process was not quite as painful, since i had some ideas about what to pack and how, but it was exacerbated by trying to decide what not to bring to my small cinderblock dorm room. In the end i packed in a mad rush, condensing a bookshelf of novels down to ten essentials, and compressing all of my vinyl clothing into a mere half of a giant-tupperware container.

In retrospect, the move to school was rather painless. I got used to permanently living out of boxes throughout the year, which made it much easier to bring home clothes and cds for Christmas and Spring Breaks. However, soon thereafter came the great dorm switch, which i discuss at length elsewhere. In this switch i had to not only transport all of my break belongings, but also such gems as Freshman year textbooks and memorabilia from my season with the Drexel Players. This move was the hardest of them all, because i had no one who was specifically dedicated to helping me. Sure, there were at least 16 orientations leader’s floating around who were also moving, but no one was standing by my side, helping me carry the heavy boxes.

In the three months i have spent in this dorm i have not totally unpacked a single box. The more you move, the easier it gets. Packing clothes a few hours ago was as simple as folding them; i know how to categorize so that they aren’t a mess when i unpack them. However, with each move there are things that get harder and harder for me to pack and unpack. Desk supplies, pens, pencils, altoids boxes full of subway tokens, pictures i have tacked to my wall, unused boxes of tissues, mugs, spare headphones… how am i supposed to pack all of that? When moving into the dorm i had a few trips back and forth to make sure i got everything, but tonight i have to get it right all in one shot. Hopefully i won’t forget anything vital, like my signed garbage cd. Or my allergy medication.

Or the power cable for my computer.

I have so much stuff. Even worse, I have so much stuff that just doesn’t fit into a packing category. I lived in the same house from age 3 to age 16, and in that time i had the luxury of storing my personal belongings in every nook and cranny of the house. I had books and toys safely tucked away in the basement, videos piled in my closet, and comic books lining my walls.

Moving out of that house was a real chore. However, i had the advantage that the whole house was moving, so i had moral support from my mother and both my cats. From that house i moved to a much cuter (but not as big) house in South Philadelphia (Philly’s most notorius neighborhood, by far). In this new house, i had my own room, and one half of another for my belongings. At first i was living out of boxes, but as my Senior year of high school wore on, i expanded to fill every niche in the room to make it feel like home. And it was home, for exactly 12.6 months.

In an ironic note, Netscape just bit the dust in classic fashion while i was reading an article about how wonderful Netscape6 is/will-be. When Netscape crashes on my computer, it leaves an illegal operation window floating in the middle of my screen that won’t go away, so i generally need to reboot to be able to use anything efficiently. Oh, the joys of Netscape.

In the “too sick to notice” category, i just returned from picking up my dinner at the pizza place across the street. On my way back i stepped between two tightly parked cars to wait for the ideal chance to jaywalk back to the dorm. Suddenly, i found that one of the car’s bumpers was nuzzling my calf. I was intrigued, but i’m not used to that sort of public display of affection from an automobile so i glanced at the car to see what its intentions were.

The driver was trying to get out of his parking space. He wasn’t very happy with me.