Amy’s Journal

That’s me, distressed and confused, amid my piles of clothes that I have to sort through to figure out what I am taking to college. I am moving in to Stanford on Tuesday, which means that my entire room has been torn apart and is covered with various cosmetics, toiletries, clothes, bags and accessories that I am going to take. Not to mention bedding, hangers, drying racks, first aid kits, toolkit, electronics, books, etc. For most people, this is no big deal. It might even be fun for some people, like my insane friends who actually enjoy organizing and packing things.

I am not one of those people. Throughout my life, whenever my mom pulled out the suitcases before a trip, I would have a panic attack, similar to the way my boyfriend starts hyperventilating when we get to the parking lot of a mall. I am not a neat person. I can’t fold very well, I don’t organize well, and I lose everything. I also can’t think ahead–to predict what the weather will be like, whether I will have to wear something dressy, what mood I am going to be in, etc. One of the skills that amazes me most in life is some people’s ability to pack “outfits”, i.e., things that go together…the pants, the shoes, the shirt, the jacket, everything, so that they can bring less things. For me, visualizing an outfit is worse than calculus. So what I usually end up doing is bringing everything that I think I might wear, and greatly overpack. It usually works.

Not this time. If I had my way with this whole college thing, I would bring ALL of my clothes. But my dorm room closet space is smaller than my suitcase(a very big suitcase). And I have enough clothes to fill three. So I actually have to DECIDE things (I hate decisions). Then add to my already frazzled brain the traumatic fact that I am packing this stuff up for good to leave my beloved family and dog, and you’ve got me pretty close to a good old fashioned toddler-style melt down.

All I can say is, thank god for moms.