Because I don't know where to even begin with this whole packing shit. I hate this. Yet another reason why being able to do Harry Potter-style magic would be incredibly convenient.
Moving always goes like this:
1. I bring way too much stuff, stuff that I will never look at and only discover at the end of the year when I'm packing to go home.
2. I always forget basic things. Last time I think it was hair straightener and something computer-related. Before that, I forgot my damn TV and my bamboo plant. Seriously. The damn TV.
3. I tend to move more and more books, t-shirts and movies to my room, from home, over the course of the year.
4. Picking between DVD's and books and posters and makeup to bring is like picking between children. Materialistic, yes, but fuck you. I have my vices too. And it doesn't matter that I go home a lot. It's the principal of having to choose.
5. I bring a lot of decorative shit. I need posters. Many of them. And I need things on my desk to disrupt the chain of thinking that tells me that I'm in a cell-sized room working years off of my life to get papers done to keep above a 3.8 for no real reason other than to stay on some kind of sick hamster wheel. AHHHHH.
6. I always feel like I move in way more stuff than other people. This gives me anxiety.
7. I want a goddamn apartment so bad!! I want an oven and a decent washer and dryer. I want a parking space that I don't have to pay $200 for. I want walls that are more that a thin sheet of plywood. I'm sick of living in the same room of the same building. If I end up with terrible neighbors again this year, they're getting more than tootsie pops and hangers thrown at the wall.
But all of these things are infinitely better than having to live at my house for any extended period of time. Though I love my room. And I miss my dogs. And my family is okay in controlled doses.
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So, about death...my mom and step-dad go to estate sales every Saturday morning. I tag along sometimes. Well, yesterday I did and I got this cool jewelry box-thing. I can deal with the fact that this belonged to a dead lady; I own quite a few things that belonged to dead people. But, I opened up the bottom right drawer and folded up was a note that said "Mom, here's some little treasures. Love you." That freaked me out. I'm probably going to use the box still, but notes from dead people, or to dead people freak me out.
It originated from this note plastered to the wall in my closet at my old house. It was written by a younger girl a long time ago (like 30's-ish? Maybe before). She wrote about how she was uber pissed that her dad made her sell her gold locket. I don't know if you people believe in spirits or whatever, I don't even know if I believe in that stuff, but all kinds of weird and unexplainable shit happened in my room at that house and that note freaked me out.
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Okay, now baby-mama's...I was babysitting my nephew today. I had to go to Wal-mart with my mom and brother so my brother could get a haircut. I was in charge of walking around the store with the baby. It was weird. He's only like 1 and 3/4 years old, so he looks like he could be mine. It was just really weird walking around Wal-mart looking like a teen mom.
I don't have anything to say about it other than it made me feel kinda weird.
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Oh, here's the picture I wanted to make my new default on Facebook, but my mom yelled at me and said I was creepy, lol, so I had to go with a normal picture instead.
This picture makes me think of "Under Pressure" by David Bowie and Queen. Don't ask me why.
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