Taken on Ilford HP5 Plus 400 B/W film; Nikon F3.
I’m supposed to be moving out of home in a week’s time and I haven’t packed a single thing. My room is a wreck but I keep telling myself that there’s no point in tidying since I will be leaving soon anyway. I think the main thing I need to do is throw things out, rather than pack it all. Because who really needs shoe boxes full of clothing tags when they have boxes worth of postcards? Clearly, I “collect” too many things. The amount of books and clothes I have will be a mission to sort through, let alone everything else. That’s the mystery with me — because I can happily live out of a suitcase for weeks and not miss anything, yet when I’m back home, I can’t seem to let anything go.
I’m also starting to get terribly nostalgic about everything, thinking like, this will be the last weekend I sleep in this room and other pointless, torturous thoughts. I’m just too sentimental. And yet, I don’t think I would care half this much, if I was moving far, far away to the other side of the world. I’m only moving twenty kilometres away, it’s really not a huge deal. Plus I’ll probably be home for dinner at least once a week since I am still tutoring around here, and hockey is five minutes away. I just don’t know how my sister ever coped with leaving the cat!
Case in point — I found him sleeping on my double bass yesterday afternoon. Just too adorable:
Also, I’m pleasantly surprised at how much The Strokes’ new album is growing on me. For some unspecified reason, my favourite track so far is “Slow Animals” (below). I’d almost forgotten about their ridiculous 5-album-contract until I read this the other day. It’s an interesting analysis of what’s happening there, but I don’t know… maybe when it comes to bands from the early noughties, I really don’t like to over-analyse. I’d prefer to hang onto that feeling I had from ten years ago when I first started blogging, first really fell for music of my own accord, and was far too young to register half the lyrical content of bands like The Strokes, Bloc Party, and of course the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. As much as I have to acknowledge that great things happen in Auckland and New Zealand, I can’t help but constantly feel that we’re so far off from being at the epicentre of anything. Maybe that’s why I wouldn’t care that much for all my stuff if I were moving far, far away.
“That’s the mystery with me — because I can happily live out of a suitcase for weeks and not miss anything, yet when I’m back home, I can’t seem to let anything go.”
That’s how it is with me, too! When I was abroad for a year I lived out of two suitcases with no problem, but when confronted with the thought of spring cleaning my apartment I’m like, “But… I can’t possibly throw out/donate/give away that!!” It’s weird.
There’s something about moving out of a place you’ve lived in for a long time that makes people sentimental – I’m pretty sure that we just become attached to certain places with time. I was definitely that sentimental with I first moved out of my parents’ place for California, but since then, I’ve moved from room to room every year and haven’t felt any sort of attachment towards those rooms.
But you’ll move out. And nostalgia will hit you harder when you finally do. But it’ll all be all right. If I was able to move across the US, you are definitely able to move 20km away without many issues.
Take care!