Packing on New York Moving Eve

I feel grossly unconfident. I pretty much failed at New York: Round 1. September 1, 2006 I moved on a whim, maybe wanting to be a bigshot Japanese-corporate power suit. (Pennsylvania State University Main Campus' ubiquitous Business School assholes probably had an influence there) It also must be said that New York was home to a crushed-upon boy but- er, well, in reality I truly forget my rationale back then. However, tonight I am back in Fihdehfiya and in the process of packing for the second attempt. To move up for good this time and be an actress and- Why did I leave? T.P.O's inquiring readers might ask. The bottom line is Lyme disease (undiagnosed in the very etymological sense of the word) masquerading as as infestation of bed bugs no es bueno para el cuerpo. End scene.

Anyway, tonight I was sorting through all my goddamned SHIT when I had a black hole, What am I doing moment. True, I'd been dreading this, battling against it by sleeping at either of my brothers' houses for days on end as to be away from my room. My room crammed with all my SHIT, some of which must be sorted for New York- bound rolling suitcases. Last night, at said brother's, I was enlisted to clean his room and do his laundry- for a fair price. I was caffeinated, so the request was agreeable. Now, brother is not one for organisation of his room. So much so that a fairly prim friend of mine, after visiting the space noted and commented days later. Yeah, guy floor was home to many, many CVS receipts and pennies and coffee cups. However, my brother was perfectly okay with with me "messing with" everything in his space. Everything! This made me spazz. My brother's room was a perfectly utilitarian space for him and not a den of old superfluous emotionally-tied crap. This I blame for my frenzy now. I cannot get it together and pack. Just what things do I need to hack it in Gotham City so I can have a room free of bullshit?!

I know this is no novel dilemma- I've even heard that ancient people believed it necessary to raze and burn their town every couple of years- to keep life simple. Just yesterday some magazine was staring me in the face with its "Ponder the type of life you want to have in your new home. Ask yourself which of your belongings will help you create that life and which will not." Well, I don't flipping know!! My tentative plan is a huge suitcase of hygeine acoutremonts and non-splashy clothing and my guitar, easily stowable in the belly of the illustrious Fung Wah. But not a stick of furniture, Biss? Not a bed? How will you find comfort in your new room? Will crash with friends while feung shui-ing my room. Will get any and all furniture from local garage sales. Maybe I'll even paint my room- who knows? Tomorrow is the deadline, resistant as I am to separate myself SO MUCH STUFF!!

Okay, okay I did say feung shui back there. I've been in people's houses who have studied this; I usually depart envious. (And full of Community Sustainable Game Meat) Yesterday I told my brother feung shui is supposed to bring prosperity- and that I planned to be a slave it in my new environ. Brother doesn't believe in 'prosperity', he says. Frankly, he had a point. And I was back-a to square one. My brother had nothing to hide in his room- and wouldn't it be nice to live somewhere like that?

Ahem.

An Inability to Plan for a Content. New York. Lifestyle: Redux

and

Shame for Failing the First Time and for Having Too Many Belongings

are the same damned thing. This bites.