on stuff.

Focusing on the process of moving is a nice distraction from the nauseating process of managing my federal student loans, because the university and the government feel that I must never forget that by the time I graduate in three more semesters I’ll have acquired enough debt to buy a house—a small house in a bad neighborhood, but that’s still a fucking house. I have a degree from a community college that I paid for out of pocket, and which got me out of two years of university requirements, and I honestly cannot even imagine what I’d be doing now if I’d had to do the entire four years at UA. I’d probably be curled up in a corner. Weeping.

So I’m focusing on packing, and packing up my life has brought to my attention the fact that, weirdly enough, I have surprisingly little to bring.

I’m bringing my guitars and my record collection, I’m borrowing the Wii and an Xbox 360, I have my clothes and a fist full of comic books and … I guess a toothbrush and some garbage bags. Shampoo. A box of dictionaries. Maybe some other books. I’m reaching, here. Everything else is school supplies because, as much as it pains me to admit, right now my life is my goddamn degree. Nothing else matters except eating and occasionally talking to people and sometimes personal entertainment. As my list o’ stuff pretty plainly demonstrates.

I move down on Friday, I think. Maybe Saturday. My father’s really dragging his feet on this because he thinks if he waits long enough he can combine “moving my things” with “visiting me for my birthday” and only drive to Tucson once.

This entry also doubles as an ad for my apartment complex. Look how swank it is.