The (p)Act of Pa(ni)cking AND why I like Blogspot

Today has been a day of packing things up. This consisted mostly of trying to determine what kind of music I will want to be listening to in three months, so that I can get it off of my old computer that is staying here and onto my iPhone. This also consisted of a lot of laundry. I think there were articles of clothing washed today that haven't been washed in 3 months because they've stayed at the bottom of the laundry bin until now. This also consisted of cleaning my car.
Let me say that again. This also consisted of cleaning my car. You have probably seen my car. But have you ever seen the floor of it? You can see it now. Not only that, I cleaned out the trunk. The cookies that have been there for two years are now gone. I left some of the crackers that have been there for 5 years though, for good luck.
I've figured out that I will only be allowed to take one suitcase with me, because I tried to save some money by booking my flight to Paris separately (which i finally did this morning). So my flight on British Airways to Paris only allows me one suitcase, wherease my flight to Copenhagen and connecting flight to London allows me two. Anyway, I'm not taking much. Clothing. A few books. Some notebooks. My laptop. My Kurt Cobain Lunchbox. A coat. My iPhone. I'll only be taking one pair of boots, I think. The new black pair. That should do.
And then i took four breathes and took a sip of water. I feel like I'm describing the most mundane things, but hey, you're the ones who want to know what's going on.

WHOA. What just happened? I'll tell you what. The iGods decided to shut down my browser, causing me to worry that I had lost the desperately boring account of my day. But this site autosaves drafts pretty much every minute. So I went back in and found it with no problem. Thanks Blogspot. You're the best. No...you are. I love you more. I love YOU more. Oh Blogspot, you always do win.

Anyway, back to the packing. This is, I think, the first time that I've been back at this house, and not gone rummaging through my closet to find all the old mysteries of years past. You don't do that when you have to pack your life into one checked bag, and two carry-ons, one of which must be a laptop type bag. You don't go looking for other parts of your life that you could take with you. You've got enough already. Too much stuff to fit into that baggage. People talk about people having baggage. Having too much baggage. Well that's just not fitting. If a person has too much baggage, they've got plenty of room to put extra things. I have too LITTLE baggage, is my problem. Or so they all say.

The last few days have been very very difficult. I haven't felt this way since I left Bismarck to come to Seattle. I'd forgotten what that feeling was like. Of Going Away. I've had people leave, and had to say goodbye to them. But I was staying. This time, I'm Going Away. It is very different. As I mentioned in my previous post, I apologize to all those who were at my Going Away functions who I said goodbye to and wasn't, how do you say, all the way there. You see, I was quite drunk, and also, quite upset with this whole Going Away ordeal. So Brad, I wasn't mad at you, that's not why I left when you were saying goodbye, I was drunk and upset. S.A.D.D. is the term for it (Students Against Drunk Departing). And Jay, when you were leaving, it wasn't that I didn't want to see you anymore, it's that I didn't want to say goodbye to anybody else, and I didn't want to have the goodbyes last any longer, so I wanted everyone out. Also, I was drunk. And upset.

The title above can be read a few different ways, of course. Why else would I have done it? If you wanted straightforwardcutanddry, go somewhere else! We've already discussed (1) The Act of Packing. Pretty easy stuff. I was in the A-C-T of P-A-C-K-I-N-G...! (2) The Pact of Packing: Say you have to make a choice between Sartre and King. Say you have to choose between the current (m83) or the classic (David Bowie). Say you have to choose between Black and Green. When you're packing, you're making a pact to be with those things for the duration. I'm stuck with Sartre! For who knows how long! But would King really fit in my new situation? Paris? Stephen King in Paris? Not Likely. How about the music though? Both m83 and David Bowie seem adequately Parisian-friendly to me. Okay, so m83 is French. but can you really say that there's an advantage? Over David Bowie?! What to choose? Well, luckily, I have a wonderful iPhone. So I'm just taking both m83 and David Bowie with me to Paris. You can't have them! They, are mine. And the third choice didn't really have to do with Parisian judgment, or whether I'm going to stick with the old classic standby or risk it with the new, unreliable soundwaves. The third choice was personal. It's just the way I am. Me and Black go together.
So there it is. I've packed away my life and made my choices. This is what's going with me to the exciting life beyond, and this is what stays behind in boxes in my parents garage.
(3) The Act of Panicking. I've been probably on the calmer side of panicking than most concerning my move. I think most people, if leaving tomorrow on a jet plane to France, for an undetermined amount of time, would probably be making sure they knew at least how to say "I need Help," or making sure they have the right converters to make their laptops work over there, or figuring out just how much money it really is going to cost them to make this trip. Not Me. I'm letting my parents panic for me. They like it, I think.
(4) The Pact of Panicking. I believe, like packing, that panicking is a sort of pact. One does not panic, unless one has (relatively) good reason to do so. When we're thrown into that panic state, by whatever comes along the way and shakes us, we make a pact right here and now that we care what the outcome of this little event is, and we're going to do what we can to fix it. This is why we act in the wake of panic. This is why we learn how to say "I need Help" or figure out our budget. Because we've seen the glimpse of darkness that came in and whispered into our ears: "you don't know what you're doing here...do you?" And we panicked. We realized, well....maybe not. But I ought to. I damn well ought to know what I'm doing here. And so we begin figuring it out. We spiral off in different directions, grabbing at different books and listening to different friends and acquaintances tell you all about their experiences with panic, and let me tell you, here's what you oughta do. And we're doing this because we made a pact...with whatever it is we're panicking about, be it our own wellbeing or the future of Sprockets. We made a pact with ourselves, or with Sprockets, that says I care about your outcome. So I'm going to try to figure out just what we're doing here.

Thank you for reading. As you can see, I'm a little sick of packing, and just wanted to type somethings for a while.

My next update will most likely be from across the sea.