I move in two weeks.
Packing is a dangerous thing. Because packing leads to sorting. And sorting leads to finding all of those things better left forgotten. The ones you wonder why you've kept for so long. Items that once meant so much, and now mean so very little. Or rather mean something else entirely.
I'll be the first to admit i'm a pack rat. But an organized one if that's possible.
I began collecting vintage suitcases when i was thirteen. And now each one sits, brimming with tokens intending to be memories.
And so in an attempt to purge before the move, I sorted through them for the first time... ever?
Least favourite finds include: angsty cassette tapes of me and my guitar in early highschool (yikes. drama... although found a song about my roommate's dog, which is pretty funny), a script involving the entire character casts of star wars - the original obviously - indiana jones and batman foever (my 11 year old self = the worst...or best?) & extensive comics about my best friends in middle school (yes we were superheroes, no you can't see them).
Most favourite finds include: MY POGS (as if!), hoards of long forgotten photobooth photos (grade two neon jackets, to blue hair, to no hair, to friends i don't talk to anymore, to ones i surprisingly do, etc etc). And finally, this epic shot my sister took while i was finishing up grade five (or perhaps wrapping up a hard life on the road?).
...and for the record, the next person to take photobooth photos with me WINS. I knew something was lacking in my life, now i know what - an awkward succession of overpriced miniature photographs, equalling instant nostalgia.