Saturday, June 20, 2009

Furniture Moving Day

In 45 minutes, my father will be here to take away my bedroom furniture (except for the bed.) Later, he'll return with my uncle and a truck, and they will take everything else. Dining room table, couch, desk, coffee table. I'll have a bed, a reading lamp, and a record player. (Like my last days in New Brunswick.) Oh, and boxes of crap in the attic that still need to either get sorted, or get thrown into plastic containers and put in storage to be ignored for awhile. I am leaning towards the latter, as much as I hate it--as much as I was trying to tell myself that THIS was IT. The time I finally went through everything I owned and got rid of that 90% I can probably live without and not even realize is gone.

Yesterday, a new tenant signed a lease beginning July 1.

It's making me think of my first days here, waking up in that room for the first time, alone in the room but not alone in the house. I fell asleep crying and fighting. I woke up and cried some more, but he never saw me cry. I walked into the living room, crying softly as he slept on my couch. I moved into the kitchen to make coffee, which woke him up. As soon as he was awake, I was too embarrassed to continue crying--having no idea that I was crying, he said something, I said something, we argued some more. Then something funny happened outside and we laughed. And then we went back to sulking.

In one of my high school History classes, the teacher said something that stuck with me--I can't remember the exact wording, though I do remember the topic. We were talking about the Progressive party during the nineteenth century, and their reaction to many things, including a bad economy. They were really pushing for the U.S. to switch from a gold standard to silver (so there would be more money.) They couldn't see, said my teacher, that this would be a disaster. But it wasn't their fault, he explained. They weren't stupid. Things just aren't always clear while they're happening. You can't see all the variables. Things become clearer when they are history.

I never really felt at home here, and I still can't figure out all of the reasons why. But I understand now why I was so sad when I first moved in. I knew deep down it wasn't because I fought with a boy. I knew he couldn't be my boyfriend. That wasn't what I wanted. I did want a connection to my old life, and I might have seen him as an avenue to that. But that wasn't all. That was a small part of it.

Still, it was a pretty crappy way to begin a new life in a new home.

A large part of it was a feeling that I wasn't progressing professionally, by postponing graduate school. Even though I know graduate school isn't the answer to everything; it was feeling that I didn't have the choice. I don't want to get into the professional stuff right now.

Anyway, these past ten months of feeling less than settled have certainly been accompanied by adventures--and as they become history and as the events fall into place, the picture becoming clearer, I will write more.

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