Monday, September 12, 2011

Relocation: A Love/Hate Story

The RowdyKittens August Creative Prompt: What are some of your favorite belongings, and why?

Moving sucks. This is a truth more universally acknowledged than Jane Austen's opening line about men of a certain stature. But moving also gives you a chance to evaluate that which is really important to you, and to find ways to restabilize yourself in a completely new place.

At least that's been my experience since relocating to Orlando this month.

After spending four years of college in the District of Columbia, a city with which I quickly fell in love, I was forced by my own inclinations and the quirks of the current job market to relocate further south-- a big change for this very thoroughly northern girl.

Putting my possessions into boxes in DC felt a little like packing pieces of my soul away. This may be a bad thing from a minimalistic perspective, and I can't deny that I felt throughout the process like I had way too many possessions. I even got rid of some of them. But I am a person who strongly favors the presence of order. I don't know how to be messy. It seems to be in my DNA to make my bed in the morning, fold my pajamas and put them on the shelf after I shower, wash the dishes after I eat, and keep a neat desktop. Even if I for some unusual reason can't make my bed in the morning, I have to do it before I go to bed at night.

Moving is an event that severely disrupts this preference (which is probably why I avoid packing until it's absolutely necessary).

On the other hand, settling in to my new apartment became an opportunity to recreate my equilibrium as I unpacked my possessions and found homes for them.

Unpacking was a multi-day event here, because it had to be mixed with shopping for furniture. I haven't personally owned any furniture larger than a small bookshelf since coming to college-- my desk and bed from high school and before remain at my parents' house (primarily for logistical reasons, including the reality of needing a place to sleep when I do go home). So the majority of the weekend was spent locating, purchasing, and assembling these new items with my parents.

I have to say, I vastly prefer moving into a place that's already furnished, where all I have to do is unpack boxes. It makes life so much easier.

Still, over the course of two days, everything important was assembled, and I was finally able to empty my boxes and settle down. Of that process, I discovered which of my belongings afforded me the most peace in my new home.

For those who know me, the items in the #1 spot will not be surprising. My books are a tremendous source of joy to me. As a confirmed bibliophile, a full and well-organized bookshelf has been the centerpiece of everywhere I have lived since I was old enough to chew on kiddie literary masterpieces. I don't know if librarians have their own DNA code, but if they do, I've got it twice over. Books are my single biggest obstacle in the path to minimalism-- or they will inevitably have to be the exception. College meant that my pleasure reading has been curtailed for the past four years, limited to summer and winter breaks; my summer of “funemployment,” which is now ended, has reinvigorated my love of the printed word.

So naturally, I didn't feel entirely right or at all at home from the time I packed my bookshelf on Tuesday morning to the time I unpacked and organized them on Friday night.

On the list of my favorite belongings after that-- and I should note, at the moment I'm categorizing my “favorite” belongings as the ones which help me feel most at home in a new place-- is my desk and desk supplies. As a writer and a thinker, I find that a well-organized desk correlates with a well-organized mind. So once again, I didn't feel wholly at ease until my new desk was assembled and set up.

And of course, how could my room be my room without some posters and pictures on the wall? My Casablanca movie poster. The “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster from my sister. My National Book Festival poster from last year. Photos of my family that sit on the window sill wherever I am, and have for four years. And my most recent piece of art, acquired at someone else's moving sale here in Florida: a magnificent large landscape painting of mountains and river and pine trees. This one reminds me of home.

There are other things here that helped me feel more at home too, but these three are the big ones, and I think that is because they are what help me find pleasure and find peace. They engage my creative spirit and give me a reason to pause in the course of a day or evening and reflect. They help me to relax and destress at the end of a long day. What more could you want from inanimate possessions?

My books alone are enough to ensure that I may never be a true minimalist. At least right now, I'm okay with that. Simplicity and minimalism are two different things, and I'm happy just keeping my life simple right now-- which means focusing on the things that give me real pleasure, not the ones that distract from the goal of truly enjoying life to the fullest. And those things are cast into clear, sharp relief in the hectic days of a moving and the exhausting days of creating a new home.

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