The time came this morning to take down all of the Christmas decorations in my room. In a strange burst of energy I jumped up and began to tear all of the ornaments off of my miniature Christmas tree, and I began running around my room gathering up all the excess lights and nativity sets and jingle bells and music boxes. It only took me about ten whole minutes to finish the whole project.
Now my room looks slightly stark and unfestive but I like it that way. I need stark. Stark has an unfortunate connotation, rather negative, and I'm not so sure why. All it means is that something is a blank canvas. I like blank canvases. I like filling them.
It's the 28th of December. I'm leaving on the 7th of January for Ecola. You do the math.
My bookshelves are still stinkingly full of books and trinkets, my cds and dvds are all bursting out of my closet with an catalystic force, there's half a pile of clothes set out on my floor and the rest of my wardrobe is scattered between my chaos-reigned dresser drawers, closet, and laundry basket. I have a small reusable grocery bag full of absent-minded possessions I want to take with me (including the 1989 original LP vinyl soundtrack to Say Anything), and in the guest room is a desk lamp, a twin comforter, an easily-portable laundry bag, and a costco set of two flashlights and a headlamp, in case of power outages.
And that's my life. I can't even see past those piles right now.
What books am I going to take with me? What are the possessions I can live without? Who will keep my typewriter keys from getting dusty while I'm gone? What about my goldfish? I can't take a guitar and a banjo with me, can I??????
Stark, Hannah.
Minimize the chaos.
Don't forget to breathe. Take your Bible, a few notebooks, your laptop, your banjo, and 5 of your absolute favorite books. Only 5.
Wish me luck, this could prove fatal for me.
Chocolate chips and bottomless cups of coffee,
Xx,
Hannah
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