How do you pack for a year?

I packed one suitcase the other day to bring to London because I figured, “I might as well get a head start, right?” So, in the suitcase, I put sweaters, coats, boots, sweatpants and other similar items that I am obviously not wearing now because its the middle of the Summer in NYC (about that time of year when I want to rip my skin off because its so hot). So, as of now, those items are all set and ready to go! But what about the rest? How much of it will I be tempted to bring just because I want it, and how much of it do I actually need?

For instance, do I really need to bring ALL of my leggings? I definitely wear them a lot for dance and everyday, but do I really need them all, or should I only bring a few? Why do I have so many pairs of leggings in the first place? These are the dilemmas that I am facing. I know that they are not really anything to cry about, but I seriously don’t know what I’m going to need and what I’m going to be tempted to buy while I’m there. If there’s one thing I learned from getting my Bachelor’s degree on the west coast its that I definitely came home with much more than when I first left. The main reason why I truly felt the magnitude of the multiplication of crap that I accumulated was because I had to pack it all in a total of 13 large boxes and a car trunk and ship everything completely on my own. Then when I arrived in NY, there it was. A pile of crap packed into 13 smashed up boxes, which I then had to go through and unpack within a matter of one week. It was one of the most painful, tiring, and excruciating experiences of my life, which is only challenged by the current experience of “re-moving” all the crap that I had unpacked a year ago into storage so that my parents can downsize and I can move to London. Its making my head hurt just thinking about it.

As I sit here with my laptop on a mattress on the floor because my bed frame is already at the Pennsylvania house, all I can do is stare. Stare at the piles of clothes that no longer have the safety of shelter in their drawers (also already in PA), stare at the closet still filled with stuff that I don’t know if I’m bringing with me or not, and stare at the blank walls that were once, not too long ago, decorated with pictures and posters of things that make me happy. I’m tired of packing, but I know that it has to be done. I’m not ready to settle in one place and just be there forever. Who knows if I ever will be?

The only thing I do know right now is that I really am having a hard time with this packing thing. I have too much stuff and I don’t want to get rid of it because guess what... its MINE! I have an abnormal attachment to stuff, and I feel that if I don’t bring enough of my clothes, I’m going to miss them. Well, I guess its time to google “packing tips” again. Maybe I’ll find something new that I don’t already know. Doubt it.

What If London Doesn't Like Me?

As the time gets closer to the commencement of my journey, I am beginning to build up a minor complex. Starting to get excited by the endless amount of possibilities, I am looking into unexpected cultural feats and other ways that I can immerse myself into London and become a true local. Although the idea of becoming a real Londoner is exciting, in reality, I'll be yet another expatriate fascinated by the European architecture and Royal history of my short-lived-new home. Although there's probably somewhere close to 200,000 Americans living in the United Kingdom (maybe even more), I'm still afraid that I won't be accepted by London. What if London doesn’t like me?

Okay, that question may be a little immature considering the estimated population of Greater London is about 8 million people. I’m most certainly not trying to win the affections of 8 million individuals, but I can’t help being slightly self-conscious about this issue. Aside from worrying about the safety of my new home, the exorbitant cost of living, having to suffer through excessively long commutes, and the state of my general well-being, I am absolutely still concerned about fitting in. I don’t want to end up sitting home alone on a Saturday night, watching True Blood, and wishing I had a social life (yes, I’m bringing my True Blood DVDs. A little piece of home isn’t too much to ask).

I’ve never been much of an extrovert, and moving to a new city requires a certain amount of that in order to meet new people. The problem with pretending to be an outgoing person is that once you make friends and they get to know the “real you,” they are then confronted with the fact that you are actually, well, kind of shy. Then you risk losing the friends that you’ve already made, and you have to start all over again. There’s also the option of practicing the art of extroversion enough to truly become a gregarious type of person, which I’m assuming is the route I will eventually have to succumb to since I’m not interested in deceiving anyone about my true self. Now, although that sounds all well and good, this path would require me to change my personality, and that doesn’t sound appealing either.

So, that brings me full circle back to my original problem. Will I make friends or will I be disliked for being the shy American girl? Then again, this may not be a problem at all being that I’ll probably have to spend most of my time working or in school. So I guess what I really should be concerned about is the issue of possibly not having any free time at all. Instead of being home on a Saturday night with True Blood, I’ll be home on a Saturday night with my text books. Great! Just great!

"Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey-ey, goodbye"

"How lucky I am to have known someone who was so hard to say goodbye to." -Unknown

I never thought that saying goodbye to my friends at work would be so sad. Don't get me wrong, I am no stranger to goodbyes. I have experienced the extreme pain that I often feel when I have to say goodbye to my family and friends for long periods of time. I even know what it feels like to say the ultimate goodbye to a best friend who passed away at far too young, but the truly awful part of it all is that it never ever gets easier. No matter what the severity of the goodbye is or how close you are to the person you are leaving, coping with the pain never eases up.

For instance, I have been working at my part-time retail job for almost ten months. Technically, I didn't start becoming friends with my managers and co-workers until a couple of months ago because I tend to be a shy person, and it takes me a while to warm up to people sometimes. This means that our relationships had never gotten to the point where I would see them outside of work, and we only really bonded over work related issues and events. I mean we would talk about our outside lives and discuss what we were up to when we weren't working at the store, but we never took it to the next level. So, for ten months, I bonded with these people to a certain extent. Today, I had to say goodbye to one of my managers and three of my co-workers, one of which I bonded with more than the other two. Now even though I don't feel the same amount of attachment to them as I do to my parents (for obvious reasons), I still felt really sad afterwards. Even though my everyday life isn't really going to change from not seeing them, I still am really disheartened by the prospect that I am really not going to see these people anymore. I have made connections with them. I have touched their lives and they have touched mine, no matter how small the impact may be, I will not see them anymore. I am leaving the country. And this of course brings me to think about the fact that I'm going to be leaving my family and a few friends as well due to this major move in my life. It THEN reminds me of how difficult it was when I left my best friends in college after we graduated, and how it still pains me everyday that we can't spend time together as we use to. Its a terrible, awful, vicious and unstoppable cycle.

On the other hand, saying goodbye just makes those hellos that much sweeter. After one hasn't seen a person for a while, seeing her/him again is such a happy feeling. It makes all the pain from the initial goodbye completely disappear. In some cases, like with close friends or family, one can almost pick up right where she/he left off, and it feels like she/he never said goodbye at all. I know that it may never feel that way with my work friends, but I honestly will do my very best to really keep in touch with the people that I connected with. Of course its difficult because everyone has their own crazy and busy lives to deal with, but I'd really like to think that I can make it happen this time. 

Orangutans, bleeh...

Whenever I start to worry about something, I often lose sleep, get anxious, act irrationally towards others, become slightly ill, and I no longer have an appetite. Its great... no really, its excellent. It happens when I have performances, doctors' appointments, deadlines, and you know, big events such as those. This usually is acceptable for people because big events don't really occur on an everyday basis. They are able to handle losing sleep, getting anxious, acting out, being ill, and not wanting to eat because it doesn't happen so often.  For me, its been happening every single day for the past seven months. What is wrong with me? Really?

I have this doctor's appointment for that health problem, that doctor's appointment for this health problem, I get speeding tickets, supplementary fines for the original speeding ticket (that I didn't even know existed), AAA memberships automatically renewing themselves even though I cancelled it twice already, UK visa appointments here, there and everywhere, I have to call this person about apartments in London and confirming budgets, I have to tell my jobs (that's right, multiple jobs) that I have to quit because I'm leaving the country in six weeks,  have to figure out my health insurance for my multiple prescriptions so that I don't run out while I'm away, I have to help my parents find an apartment in Queens, I have to pack for London, I have to pack for storage, I have to pack for winter, spring, summer, fall, bananas, socks, pencils, orangutans,  bleeh, blah, bluuhh, blek... help me! 

The good news is that some problems are, in fact, solving themselves slowly. So, one would assume that once one issue is resolved, I'd be able to at least sleep a little bit better, right? Yeah, nope. I still can't sleep, and I'm having to take Unisom on a nightly basis in order to keep the dreams about my-teeth-falling-out and mice-coming-out-of-nowhere at bay.

All I know is that my Unisom is starting to kick in, and this whole expat thing better be worth it.