Failure to Launch

So I’ve moved into my new place and I’m getting all settled now like a real grown up. It feels like a little like Babe: Pig in the City mixed with Bridget Jones Moves to Toronto. I mean that in a totally non offensive way (to myself) too- it’s just been a whirlwind of mix-ups and mishaps and funny moments. It’s been amazing- don’t get me wrong- but it’s been insane.

I moved into this totally incredible apartment and, truly, I wake up every day and think- is this really mine? Okay it’s not, because it’s actually my landlord’s and I’m just renting, but all my crap is in those rooms and I’m taking all those tips I got on Pinterest and actually putting them to use! Kind of an exciting time in a girl’s life when she can say all the boards she once pinned for no reason are actually adding up to something now! I know, lofty dreams!

The move itself was a bit on the rough side. I decided I probably didn’t need and also didn’t have time to pack anything in advance. My stuff lay in heaps the morning of the move, like mountains of my past gathering in protest to haunt me. I tackled them one by one moving the “Keep” stuff into boxes large enough that I’m pretty sure I could have moved myself in them, and putting other stuff in the charity pile. We learned later that the enormous boxes that seemed so great were actually too heavy to move and too large to fit in any vehicle in any way that made sense. All that was packed had to be re-packed.

As all this was going on I started to wonder if I was sorting my stuff or my life itself. Keep, leave behind, keep, keep, leave behind. I told a friend I’m lucky I have understanding landlords (aka my parents) because it felt like way too much to be doing in one morning as my dad backed the moving truck into the driveway and my family started shifting my belongings out the door. Lots seemed to be staying behind.

The most interesting thing about this process was the amount of stuff I put in the limbo pile. I called it the “shift to nowhere” because it was all the stuff I couldn’t bear to part with, but couldn’t see fitting into my new life either. The piggy bank from my childhood, My tens of thousands of Backstreet Boys CDs and paraphernalia, the teddy bear an ex-boyfriend gave me; my life in articles. It was strange deciding who I am and who I am no more. The funniest part about it was the amount of stuff I realized I left behind once we actually arrived at the new place. In my attempt to re-invent myself I’d left behind things I realized I still needed in my new life.

It’s been excellent having a place to myself (roommate to move in the start of next month). I knew it was time for me to get up and get out and move myself along. At 23 I was feeling like I saw one too many parallels with my life and that cheesy Matthew Mcconaughey movie “Failure to Launch”. It was getting embarrassing.  Of course the irony was not lost on me when the phone company called me with my 300 dollar phone bill that I’d managed to accrue calling home since moving into the new place. Ah freedom.


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