Why moving is scary
I’m moving at the end of the month. Not far really, just down the street, but it’s still causes me some anxiety. I’m not sure why I hate moving, but I’m pretty sure it’s more psychological, then anything else. The upheaval in one’s life. The “cleaning house” and stumbling upon old love letters which tore one’s heart apart in one’s more sensitive days. The purchases one regrets. The “downsizing” and “elimination” of “unnecessary” memories. I’m quite merciless when it comes to getting rid of old stuff, even if it has sentimental value or attachment. I pride myself in that somewhat — I think I’m one of the least materialistic persons you’ll ever meet — but at the same time, I wonder if that’s just a sign of getting older. Do we numb with age… comfortably?
Purging feels great, but sometimes you make mistakes. I’m still quite undecided if I should throw away all my articles, papers, notes, exams, essays, presentation handouts, etc. from my long academic years. It will be a sure sign that I’m done with that part of my life for good, that I will never go back into academia or probably never get an academic job (at least in that field), but is it a mistake to take that leap? Mentally, I’ll be doing myself a favour. I carry around these boxes of paper like a ball and chain. What for? I’m not sure.
And then there are the books. I love books, but I must thank the gods for my e-reader, which was an excellent purchase and eliminates many boxes of heavy books, especially in the long-run. As for my pre-e-reader days, I still have quite a lot of academic books and vegetarian cookbooks. I plan to get rid of a lot of the lacto-ovo ones of the latter and most likely donate all of the former. I feel lighter with everything I relinquish. I’m just scared that it may make me feel emptier, too.
And then there’s that panicked feeling that you may be getting “ripped off” with the price of the new rental unit or that signing another 1-year lease is saying that you want to stay in this city for another year and at that location, no less. Yet all of these insecurities generally come from inside and are useless to entertain. When I actually just start living life and rolling with the punches, I learn to accept my decisions and learn from my mistakes, as opposed to dread making decisions and wallowing in my mistakes. That really should be my daily mantra. Lately however, I’ve been thinking about undergrad and listening to old-school ani difranco, wondering what the hell happened to my youth…
Moving on to food before I depress all of my readers, last night, I experimented with pearl barley. I wanted to find a recipe that used the grain, broccoli (stalks), and (red kidney) beans and I found a couple good ones online that I ended up amalgamating in some way. I’m trying to get rid of all my food that has been sitting in my pantry or fridge for too long so that when I move we won’t have to be moving boxes full of food. We ate the result heated, but as an afterthought, I imagined that it would have tasted much better cooled in the fridge. It’s a lot like Israeli couscous, but much better, I think. I don’t think it’s any more nutritious than wheat, but it’s nice to mix things up a bit every now and then. I plan to invent a “couscous” dish with pearl barley instead of couscous and see what happens. Speaking of inventions, check out this quick lunch idea. (Food keeps my mind off moving.)