Turns out, luggage is a pain.

You know those stories about people deciding to throw away all their earthly possessions and become solitary monks - looking for nirvana, finding your inner child, whatever - after going through the process, I've decided pretty firmly that they just had crappy stuff and wanted some attention. Its easy to throw away a pair of shoes you haven't worn since parachute pants were in style (shudder. we all shudder.), but deciding which item makes the cut is surprisingly hard.

As shallow as this is, I've decided that I actually did rather enjoy my 'stuff.' It was nice. Comfortable. Known. Mine. After winnowing the playing field down (I never knew I had an attachment to t-shirts literally 15 years old - thanks Mom and Dad for letting me store my useless crap in your attic!), it's both troubling and relieving to have most of it done. Surprisingly, the worst for me was not deciding which pieces of clothing to take or leave; it was deciding which USB cable actually was still in use. You haven't lived until you've packed 14 cables in a bag, and hoped against all reason that the one that actually plugs into your camera somehow made it there. And to answer the silent question, by that definition, yes, I have lived.

In sum, it's hard to do this. It's a pain. But I suppose its a good thing. I just wish that it wasn't so easy to get attached to 'stuff.' Maybe the monks did have nice things, and actually made a constructive life choice (gosh, that sounds like someone going into rehab) to free themselves from it. However, I'm much to cynical to believe that, so I'm totally going to stick with 'self-aggrandizing poofters with crappy stuff.' It takes so much less effort...