I have been living out of bags since March 30th, 2012. I figured this out after I couldn't really put my finger on why I felt this nagging sense of impending doom lingering around me all morning. I went for a jog and did some pondering and I realized it was because I was anxious about again shoving my life into my Chevy Cobalt and heading out for another round of travel. Let me be clear, gentle reader, about my life in bags. This is not a case of back to back vacations or "business" travel as I hear some people outside the education field get to partake in where all their lodging and meals are free and at least four stars. No, I have been living out of bags for survival in dark times. It was a confluence of events that led me to become a 28 year old bag lady, and unfortunately the time and my mental perseverance will not allow for that story to be divulged in its entirety here at thisjuncture. But you can safely assume that I am looking forward to not having a surf board, lamp, four pillows, a hiking backpack, two candles, six pairs of shoes, seven dresses, a broken Kindle, the 4th season of Battlestar Gallactica, and sundry bags of clothes and toiletries in my car at all times.
My life in bags will come to a temporary close by August 13th, but this experience has gotten my gears grinding about the bigger picture of my life inertia. As my Mom pointed out to me earlier this week, my life has been in flux for, well, ever. Since I left for college, I have moved eleven times. I changed careers before the age of 25. I have been in love and cried bitter tears when love wasn't enough. Whilst my peers were having children and buying houses, I was learning first hand the trials of the DC rental market and scoffing at the idea of buying furniture that requires a payment plan. And while my Mom laments about my bad luck and prays daily for my life to finally "settle", I wonder: am I maybe just meant to be a nomad?
Let me clarify: I do not wish to be a bag lady indefinitely. But, perhaps by the same token I also don't wish to have a house full of things and ties that bind me to one spot on this earth indefinitely. At least not yet. I know that I have been fighting against the idea of being "unsettled" for years. Maybe that was the wrong tactic. Mayhaps trusting my life's inertia will lead me to a more "settled" place, even if "settled" still requires a few bags.
