You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July, 2007.
I’m scamming on the free WiFi in the Tampa International Airport as we await our flight to Chicago. And like good leisure travelers, both Mom and I have taken advantage of the Bacardi sponsorship of our in-terminal lunch spot and now the cat and I are both equally sedated. Yay for kitty Valium!
It’s hard to believe that it is real. I am moving. To Chicago. Today. And won’t be back to Florida until I complete my first quarter finals in December. But so it is. I have said my goodbyes. Packed the things I needed immediately on my person. Entrusted the rest to the slightly shady movers who came to take them a week ago. And now we’re off. Ciao bella. See you in Chicago!
Yesterday, they came to take my stuff and I got to practice non-attachment.
Gone. The futon and frame I have moved nine times since college, the computer I bought for my business, the bookcase I’ve used since childhood. Gone. A few dozen of my books and magazines. My microwave cart. My cookbook for creme brulee. A moment by moment test of wills. Are you sure you don’t want this hardbound copy of “Little Women”? Are you really giving this away? And I would have to pause. And experience my feelings of attachment to whatever the item of the moment happened to be. I would let this feeling take hold, remembering how the item in question came to be mine in the first place, whether it was purchased by me or a gift from friend or family member, recalling odd flashes of its use over the years, experiencing every bit of sentimental association, what it’s very existence represented to me. And then I would stop. And consider it a blessing to be so released from my attachment. For there is nothing that left my house in the hands of another that I could not replace if needed. And I must remember also that every book, knick knack or furnishing they take is one less thing I have to pack (and unpack again at the other end of my journey). But it’s also karma baby. For the small items I couldn’t take their money, though in each case I did consider it. Instead, with each item I gave away, I imagined myself dropping a coin in the piggy bank of good fortune, adding to my savings for an as yet unanticipated rainy day. Or perhaps I am simply repaying the loan for the good fortune that has already come my way.
Moral of the story? It’s just stuff.
This HP calculator apparently calculates “backwards”? And is the gold standard for finance geeks across America.
Originally uploaded by chickaboom727
Is that I will have to learn how to use this calculator in order to get through my finance and accounting classes at U of C. According to my (former) manager, who bought this for me as a parting gift from the department, when finance geeks want to demonstrate their MBA cred to the rest of the board room, this is what they pull out of their pocket, even for the most simple addition and subtraction.
The blessing is, I read the discussion forums on the Google Group for GSB c/o 2009 and apparently there are a multitude of other options beyond the HP 12c Platinum. I had to shut my eyes and breathe deeply in that moment. (Too much information! I can only reasonably be expected to focus on the 20 tasks immediately before me! I only vaguely know what finance means in the first place, let alone know what kinds of calculations I’ll be required to perform!) And I’d decided to wait until a professor suggested that we purchase said device and then go out and buy whatever it was he or she said said I needed.
So thank you Mike for taking the guess work out of my calculator purchase. The last time I had one so fancy, it was a “scientific”, purchased for my advanced math classes in high school and college. Something tells me this is even a step up from that.
Day 2 of my last week at work and I find myself looking upon each activity, person, object with nostalgia, even some sadness. There is the security guard at the entrance that I will never greet in the morning again, Tommy Shoeshine to whom I will never again have to make apologies for my worn-down to the metal tip heels. Hello plant, at the entrance to the department. I won’t be seeing you again. Goodbye cubby. Goodbye desk. Goodbye chair. Goodbye waste paper basket and the man that comes each night to empty it. Goodbye neighbor lady who snaps her dentures at me when I pass her in the driveway.
Goodbye even to the things I will not miss (but might find myself missing despite myself):
- Driving (This includes stop and go on the bay bridges, Dale Mabry, and malfunction junction. I’m pretty sure the only thing I’ll miss is singing behind the wheel. Try that on a city bus.)
- The Same Old, Same Old Scene (Still, give me a month in the snow and I’m sure I’ll be begging for the patios at Alma, Bella Brava and El Cap, the beachfront at The ‘Tow, soul food, sea food, BT food, backyard lemon bars at The Globe, even the hazy air around the taps at The Indy)
- The nail biting uncertainty of not knowing where I’ll be this Fall. (After months of waiting, of hoping my bid for admission was good enough to be accepted, I’m in! And now I’m on to the real work. School. Accounting. Finance. Study Groups. Finals. I thought the GMAT was a nightmare? Ha!)
Goodbye GMAT 800. Hello MBA.
“You have succeeded in life when all you really want is only what you really need.” – Vernon Howard
Not only am I moving thousands of miles north to live in a new city, but I am also downgrading from a 1,000 square foot one-bedroom to a 575 square foot studio. So with each item I pack I must also ask myself, do I need this? Is it worth packing and shipping and paying for the packing and the shipping and (potentially) the storage and the hassle and the endless carting around from place to place? Is any of it really worth the trouble? So I am triaging all of my worldly possessions into what I must take, what I must sell, what I can give away and what I contribute to the local landfill. Hello carbon footprint.
They’ve looked pretty lined up on my shelf and the spines all display a pithy quotation, but these magazines will most likely end up going the latter route or (best case) to the recycling facility where (we hope) they will be reborn as new magazines printed on some % post-consumer paper. A not so virtuous cycle if you stop to really think about it.
There is another part of me that is gratified to be unburdening myself of these consumerist anchors. Not just the magazine collection(s), but the lamps, rugs, egg poacher, seldom used cookbooks. Here’s to having only what you need!
