The calm before...
So, because he's crazy in his little way - and, oh, because he *isn't* starting grad school in just about two weeks - like tomorrow or something, my brother is flying out to Vancouver, then making his way down and back by foot and/or bus and/or train until he basically gets down to about $400 left in his wallet. At which point he will figure out where the nearest airport is, and buy a one-way ticket back to NYC.
...and then start thinking just where a degree in environmental science puts him.
...for my part, now packing. Actually, there is always the temptation to just *completely* sell off everything, regardless of real or perceived nostalgia value. So what if this is a book had heard about for years, and then, in New Haven, came across *two* copies - one promptly grabbed for myself, the other mailed to her who, for all the letters we fired back and forth - yeah, yeah, real physical letters, *yes* I was a huge dork, I only ever met face-to-face once, and that meeting was about as awkward as you can imagine...so what if that's four hundred dollars in manga, or Home Movies, or a Red Elvises CD...Just commodities, objects, the world will not end if any of these disappear.
...so in a way, also, hell, why even sell, why *not* just leave everything down in the lobby for the taking?
...well, if nothing else, because that's how the world works. Pretentious as it sounds, it's also true: I am defined first and foremost by what I spend my money on, and the least I owe - *to myself* - is to keep all of this. If thought all this stuff was important enough to waste several thousand dollars on four and five and ten years ago...if I have any trust in myself, it is still important enough...
...plus, it's not like there aren't all those empty shelves in my parents' apartment!
...plus, at BookOff on Wednesday, thirty-three books, including quite a few hardcovers out of my hands...and in return, the price of a cocktail, or a couple of beers, at any given Manhattan bar...Swear, almost *would* have felt better to burn.
...or, you know, to carry down to the library...
...anyways, the bookshelves are getting bare, the cardboard boxes are getting filled, any luck, tomorrow and wednesday, I'll get rid of some of the furniture (I've had inquiries about the shelves, the breakfast table, and the futon). Then the rest - clothing and such - is easy enough to move, and probably, by friday, I'll hand over the keys, lock the door on this particular chapter of my life...
...and see what happens next, and now.
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Wow. I think hoping to find a studio in Bloomington that *isn't* just a glorified hotel room (...and, uh, has a separate kitchen) is damn next to impossible. No surprises, either - if the renter population is basically all undergrads who crave community (roommates)...and grad students and such who actually want privacy and a level of comfort. And of course, 1BRs, even furnished, are *all over the place*.
Well, nine more days and counting...
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...due to the mind of a certain someone, I now have in my possession both
The Librarian: Quest for the Spear and
The Librarian: Return to King Solomon's Mines.
If *actual* library school turns out to be nothing like this, I am going to be *pissed*.