I graduated college.
And since May 5th I’ve hit 6 states, 6 countries, and 8 airports. I surfed on the east coast and got caught in a mountain monsoon in the Smokies. I saw my brother off to his new job with Blizzard Entertainment in LA and my cousin to a life of After Effects and videography out in Chicago. I saw my cousin get married and cheers a glass with all of my Greek cousins for the first time in our adult lives - along with Anesh Choprah in New York.
Just to scratch the surface.
I’m in the conclusion of moving out of my apartment in the Famously Hot Columbia, using my parent’s home as a dumping ground. As a result I’m cutting and clearing my possessions from both ‘homes’ and finding, well, myself.
My cousin Jenna recently returned from several stints in Kenya. I visited her this summer and despite her obsessively detailed and organized persona, I wondered how she could own so little. She explained to me that for her, once you live in several states and one two continents (something I know a bit about as well) you discover what you actually need.
I’ve mostly just kept collecting and storing. Notes passed in high school, an assortment of Polly Pockets and Raggedy Ann and Andy toys from my ‘girly phase’, slides of film from past portfolios, race bibs and jerseys from gymnastics, soccer, basketball and dance, along with every diary and journal proving that: I did crush on boys from the age of 5, I developed a passion for travel at 7, and much of my mental journey to adulthood has been kept to myself.
It’s not to say I regret the hours I’ve had to spend sifting but the impending move up north - and my 10’ x 10’ digs - is a light at the end of the tunnel to my tendency to save, save and save (I’m pretty sure there’s a box of all the teeth I lost around here somewhere.)
Perhaps I ought just enjoy where I am and excite in where I’m going and not save to dwell on where I’ve been.
Above: Somebody help. I’m stuck somewhere between the age of 6 and 22.
