Clothes are littered around the floor of my room, patches of overgrown weeds that seem to get larger with every hour. Shoeboxes stack a mile high in the corner of the room. Then there are the folded clothes, judgmentally sitting alone on the bed. They know they are better than the mess on the floor. They know they are first pick to be placed in the waiting suitcases. They know they get to go to Washington D.C. on my next greatest adventure.
This. This is the packing process.
All the piles of clothes really do have a purpose. There’s a pile to take with me, a pile to maybe take with me, a pile to donate, and a pile to get rid of altogether. The process is the hard part. And the scary part. Every pile signifies something left to do before I leave for my adventure this fall.
To be fair, though, every pile also signifies something that I’ve completed. I’ve gone shopping. I’ve combed through my closet. I’ve updated my wardrobe. Every step of the process takes me closer to D.C.
(Let’s face it: I needed an update.)
My college wardrobe valued comfort over class. Sweatpants and t-shirts were preferable in the freezing classrooms, especially when class included essays or lectures. Sure, I dressed nicely when going to church on the weekends. Yes, I had cute clothes in the closet for those special date nights. Of course, I made an effort to be presentable when I was at work. Overall though, my wardrobe did not make the cut for business professional. Or anything business, really.
(The shoes can make it or break it.)
So the shoes stacked in the corner are my new dress shoes. The folded clothes on the bed are my new blazers and suits. Even my casual wear has gotten a fashionable update. Once I take that pile of clothes to the donation center, my closet will be complete. New outfits will prepare me for my internship, but also for the professional world beyond – a world that I need to prepare for, since I’ll be thrown into it all too soon.
(Presenting… my updated adventure attire.)
Adventure attire? Check.
But the closet purge is only part of the battle, and the clothes will only fill so much suitcase space. There are still so many things I need to be sure to take:
– A lint roller, because white fuzz somehow becomes magnetically attracted to black fabric.
– Tide To-Go? That ketchup stain becomes all too obvious on a tan suit.
– My DVD player. I can go without movies for four months, easy, but they do provide a good way to get to know new friends and roommates.
– An umbrella and rain boots, I suppose. I’m from Texas; I don’t even know what rain looks like.
– My iPad, since the modern world practically revolves around technology.
– I’d say books, but with all the reading I’d want to do, my books would fill up a suitcase all on their own. I’ll stick with my Kindle.
– Brand new (and comfortable) walking shoes, so I can walk the streets of D.C. in style. And without blisters.
– A pen and some paper. Inspiration may strike me on the subway, and I’ll need some way to write it down. (Fun tip: if you want to keep a writer entertained, hand her a simple pen and paper.)
– My journal. I’ll want to keep every memory preserved somehow, so I can look back on it later. So I can really learn from the whole experience.
Then there’s my backpack. Indiana Jones always carried his satchel, so I took a page from his book. It’ll probably carry some of the aforementioned essentials that don’t make it into my suitcase. It will hold my journal, my iPad, my Kindle, a pen and paper. It will contain everything that I really do need with me. The necessities of a writer, an intern, and an adventurer. Except a whip. Thanks Indiana, but I’ll probably be able to face my brand of adventure without that one.
(The real adventure necessities.)
Adventure accessories? Check.
Now all that’s left is to actually let the adventure begin!
(Washington D.C., here I come.)
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