Update: I just spent a whole hour repacking. I was successful in getting rid of a suitcase worth of clothes. I guess writing a blog does have positive results. Very quick ones. Heart: 1 Fear: 0


I am exhausted. Even though I’ve only been shuffling around for an hour or two now. Please pay attention to the word shuffling. 2 hour  Muay Thai sessions were less painful. 

I’m leaving for school again tomorrow. I must live near campus since it is far from home. Last semester at school was my first and it was exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not my first time going through university. I am pursuing my MBA now. While it’s obviously much more stressful than undergrad, living away from home makes it even harder. 

Last semester when I was coming home I had so much stuff to take back that my best friend and I had to take the bus home because our SUV was packed. On this bus ride home I made a vow that I would live a minimalistic life at school next semester. Yeah, that might not happen now that I’m almost done packing. 2 suitcases, 3 boxes, 2 gym bags and a bunch of other things later, I am not travelling light tomorrow. 

I keep trying to get rid of things but can’t help but justify carrying every little thing with the premise that I might need it for some special, offhand occasion. Do I need 30 shirts and 10 pairs of jeans for a 4 month semester? Of course I don’t. Do I want to get rid of half the shirts that I have packed? Nope. Not even one. 

Why I wonder? Is it the fear that if I leave something behind I will truly regret it later. Ill really need it someday and I won’t have access to it because I would be a long bus ride away? Am I in any way identifying with my stuff? I mean I can’t deny that the more stuff I have the safer I feel. 

Taking this thought one step further, I wonder if this fear of being lost without our stuff is what keeps us from taking risks in our lives. You have always wanted to live in Italy and learn to speak Italian (I wish I could get eat pray love out of my head. I can’t yet) but here you are in Canada living in a castle of your stuff because it feels safe. Does our stuff have a hold on us? Are we trapped by it? What would life be like if we weren’t? 

As I sat pondering the question I came across this article. I found it to be immensely inspiring. I mean I often find kiwi trying to get into the bathroom when I’m in it but don’t have a view of the ocean. 

While I am not up for packing up and leaving for an island in the middle of nowhere (a small part of me wants to be on a ferry to a remote island as early as tomorrow) maybe I should start with my own little adventure. What I’d I kept to my promise from last semester? 

Should I try and find out? I think it’s time to repack. 


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