Published in the Bluffton News -- February 7,
2013
I never realized how spread out the buildings in my area
were until I moved back home after Bluffton.
If I want to work out, I have to either drive a lengthy
distance to an overpriced gym or clear my floor enough to get in some crunches,
lunges, squats, and some sad attempts at my own created cardio (i.e. dancing to
international hip hop or rap—that way I have no idea what they are saying).
If I want to take a walk, I should probably drive to a park
to do so because cars run stop signs in my neighborhood (yielding to
pedestrians is only an option when you’re not in a hurry, apparently—and everyone is in a hurry) and there are many
large dogs that are not well-monitored.
Don’t believe me on the latter bit?
Ask my grandfather who walks around with a cane as a means of
self-defense not because he has trouble walking.
If I want to meet up with a friend, I have to drive over to
their house. This gets expensive with
gas prices-- especially when most of your friends live far away thanks to
college. For my local friends, I
sometimes have to stoop to tricking them into carpooling somewhere. This usually means going out to dinner,
shopping, or seeing a movie, however—all money-losing ventures. That’s when I just start relying on the
internet for my social needs.
It’s safe to say that I feel as though I live in the internet now. I wish I would have kept a tally, but I have
probably applied to over a hundred jobs by now.
On top of that, I thirst for the learning I was doing in college so I
have been learning from TED talks, blogs, vlogs (video blogs), documentaries
and more. I even write my To-Do lists
online now—no more Post-It notes or planners.
I also find recipes to horrify my very traditional family and songs to
try out on the piano. Whenever I have a
question, I google it. If and when the
internet goes down, I will be subjected to a confused existence. I am indebted to my parents for the internet
connection, because without it, that would be just another convenience I’d have
to drive to instead of walk to after leaving Bluffton.
This brings me to a subject that I have been interested in
lately- minimalist living. It truly
fascinates me that people can cut back on “stuff” and be happy living in a
small boat, a shed, a 90-square-foot apartment, a bus. I suppose I experienced something similar in
my closet-sized, dorm single in Bren-Dell Hall.
The idea is also appealing to me because it would allow me
to own my own home at a young age. I
already have college loans that I will be paying off for the rest of my
life—why add a mortgage? This is the
reason for many people who have subscribed to the new fad-- a tiny-home way of
life. They also get a very customizable
home out of it. One teenage boy built a
tiny home on wheels by himself with plans and tutorials he found online. One couple made a home out of a school bus
and raised the roof with parts from discarded RVs and vans. Another family made their home out of all
recycled items, and yet another made a foldable home out of an old chicken
coop. For the latter home, the one-room
home had walls that contained all their storage, their bed, their full sized
kitchen, full shower and bath, and more available to be unfolded from the walls
or tucked back away into the wall storage system. Some have called this method the
home-in-a-box. I am just glad they were
able to get the smell of farm animals out.
After obsessing over these videos for a bit, I look at my
room. I see books and mementos, clothes
and shoes, a TV I have been meaning to sell, and storage that I have not looked
through in years. I have a lot of work
ahead of me.
Something that I learned from living in a small dorm in
Bluffton is that I really do not use as much stuff as I think. I could write a list of the items that I
actually use on one sheet of paper, and I do not think I would really miss the
rest of my “stuff” if I accidentally lost it.
However, when I go to throw it away I think, “Maybe I could sell this
and make some money,” or “Maybe I really will need this someday,” or even the
dreaded, “I could make something out of this someday!” but it sits on my
dresser collecting dust instead of transforming into something creative and
useful. I must confess: I have a
difficult time parting with “things.” I
am a sentimental person and my mother always taught me to be appreciative and
practical with what I am given.
However, these extraneous piles of stuff do nothing for me
but add more fog to my life. It’s a fog
that gets in the way of creativity, productivity, and my ability to move on. It’s a fog that only adds to the uncertainty
of my future.
It’s hard to describe this sensation but living with a lot
of stuff makes my current transitioning period even more difficult than it
already is. I see items from my
childhood and outdated furniture—familiarity that has been comforting in the
past but only holds me back as I attempt to accept myself as an adult with an
impending career.
This is why I have planned to rid myself of “stuff.” It’s a scary and sizeable feat, but I believe
it to be just another step in becoming an independent woman secured in her own
adulthood. I am also well on my way to
becoming a substitute teacher at some local schools and a private piano teacher
from home, excitingly enough, so I am starting to feel some much-needed
closure.
Leaving Bluffton was harder than leaving home. Let me explain: When I left home for Bluffton, it was a new,
exciting experience. Home still existed
for me and still held out its arms for me when I needed it. Now, however, I do not have a room to go back
to in Bluffton. Someone else lives in my
room. I no longer am signed up for
classes. I go to Bluffton to visit
friends, but my i.d. card no longer works at The Commons, The Sommer Center, or
The Musselman Library (though friends swiped for a meal for me in the
cafeteria, student employees allowed me to use the fitness center, and the
library still allowed me to take out some resources last time I was
there). The graciousness of Bluffton
University to still accept as a part of its family is much appreciated, but
when I visit, there is still something missing.
I am no longer living there. It’s
a sad realization, and only a reminder that I must go back home and begin a new
kind of life.
This new life is slowly starting to take shape, though. The lessons that I learned at Bluffton and
the culture I inherited during my four and a half years there are puzzle pieces
perfectly fitting where my adult needs leave gaping holes. Isn’t it strange how one stage of our life
always leads to the next in such scary but ultimately perfect ways? The cliché is true: Everything happens for a reason.
