Packing.

I hate to Bogart Brenna's entry title, but I do feel "Packing." is the only way to describe the state of my life at present. It seems as though I am perpetually packing, whether getting ready for England or for a night over at someone's house.

I used to love packing. The thought of actually going somewhere always made me so excited, and then I'd spend hours picking out exactly what I wanted to bring and inevitably overstuffing some rolly suitcase. Now that I'm older and going to college so far away from home, I feel like packing has almost become a burden. Honestly, how can you possibly pack your entire life away into one checked bag and one small carry-on? For even a normal person (and by normal, I mean someone who doesn't have a million pairs of shoes that she is dying to wear in Europe..ha) this is an almost impossible task. I don't want to go to England with the mentality that it is not where I'm living, only staying for awhile until I go "home." I'm going to school in Leicester. I'm living in Leicester. I am not just visiting. Knowing this, how I possibly sit down and decide what is important enough to take with me and what is not? Don't I own these things, these relics of my life because I found something important, something BEAUTIFUL, about every single piece?

And then there's this question of what home really is. I mean, if my parent's house in Roswell is my "home," why are the things from my room, my childhood obects, packed away in boxes? Sometimes I feel less at home in my house in Georgia than I do in other places, like my room at school. So why wouldn't I try to make England my home? Who knows, maybe I'll end up falling in love with Europe (ok, that's definitely a given) and never want to come "home" again (that may be a stretch, but we'll see how I feel come May.)

With all of this in mind, then, I guess I'll continue packing and re-packing. I refuse to be limited by the rules of the shuttle bus completely.

I guess the post office employees and I will just have to become best friends.