Moving Back

Most people hate moving, and for good reason. It’s such a hassle, packing everything, hauling it away, and reorganizing it all once again. But lucky me, that’s what my college self gets to do every six months. Yes, I know going to a school 45 minutes away from home means the ordeal is considerably easier for me, but it still sucks. Being the oldest child, my family was suckered into buying every random college dorm tool in preparation for my freshman year, meaning my basement is now full of drying racks, lap desks, window fans and bed risers, all quite unnecessary when you’ve graduated to living in an apartment. In the past, I’ve hauled it all back to school anyways, just because I’d bought it and felt bad not using it.

To make matters worse, just like almost every other female out there, I am a flagrant overpacker. I dread having to pack my clothes, since I’ve realized I own waaaaaaayyy too many. Despite the fact that I regularly wear about 60 percent of my wardrobe, I feel the need to drag the entire collection of shoes, hoodies, skirts, tees, sweaters, belts, scarves, and bags with me to school. I mean, I guess I don’t really need to bring three different pairs of brown heels, but one pair is for casual skirts, one pair for nice skirts and one pair for pants. You see how difficult it would be to choose just one?

The best part is, students at my school think that because they are in college, it is suddenly acceptable to have a wardrobe consisting solely of sweatpants, free t-shirts and pajamas. If I were to walk into class wearing heels, half the students would ask me what the occasion was. I’m not saying I’m the best dressed or most fashionable person out there. My style is pretty simple, but that doesn’t mean I don’t look put-together and presentable for class. This may be a shock to some, but pajama pants aren’t actually a substitute for real pants.

But I digress. Contrary to making me more independent, college has just put me in a weird sort of limbo. I’m living on my own but I still happily rely on my parents to handle real-world things like bills. And while home to me is still my parent’s house, I’m only there a quarter of the year. The majority of my time is spent at school, where I live, work, play, eat and study with my friends. And while I love every minute of school, come May I want nothing more than to eat a plate of Mom’s rajma, discuss the latest political scandal with my dad, bother Neeraj about school and sleep in my own bed.

Last year during the election season, there were a number of voter registration drives on campus and even though I’m already registered in my home district, the people tried to get me to reregister to my campus district. Think about it, they said, you spend most of your time here, so you’re more affected by the actions of lawmakers representing this campus district. While that may be true, changing my voting district would mean acknowledging the fact that I am out of the house. And even halfway through college, I’m not ready to do that. Life on my own is something reserved for after college. Only then will I be required to learn how to manage a bank account, deal with insurance companies and keep a house clean.

A few weeks ago, while trying to fall asleep, I was struck by the realization that I was down to my last two weeks of summer freedom, ever. Sure, I still have next year’s summer break, but since I’ll be interning and, most likely still living abroad next summer, this was it for living completely free of responsibility at home. No work, no stress, just chilling with the fam. And yes, while this did get boring and frustrating at times, the thought that in two years, I will never, ever, ever get three completely empty, uncluttered months to simply exist is less than comforting. It means I’m growing up, and that’s a scary thing.

Okay, this post was not at all meant to become that philosophical and depressing. All I wanted to say was packing sucks and hopefully this time, I’ll actually take only what I need. Especially because in five months I’ll need to fit my entire life in two suitcases and one carry on, and as Karen told me earlier, that is no easy task.