Packing List - Revised

Whoever coined the term "Funemployment" was either a retired, leathery old balding man living in Boca or an ass hole trustafarian hipster in Williamsburg. The angst and perpetual feeling of being lost has not been an enjoyable one since leaving my job. "What do you want to do?" has become a question I welcome as openly as what I imagine it might be like to endure a colonoscopy. What makes this question so infuriating is that it is something only I can answer and the answer can never be wrong... WTF. It's like discovering the cereal aisle in the grocery store only to realize you've been eating Cheerios every god damn day for the last ten years when you could have had Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Frosted Flakes or fucking oatmeal! ...I digress. 

When I look around, at the ever exciting social media crazed culture we live in, it's hard not to feel like we're all just a bunch of attention seeking, achievement oriented ass holes competing for the most likes. I have come to the either extremely liberating or completely discouraging conclusion (I have yet to decide) that everyone else is just as lost I am. 

As a result of this current unrest I have found myself back home in Maine reassessing life. The longer I stay here the more acutely aware I have become of how much I am turning into my father. For example, on two separate occasions I have found myself at Best Buy making purchases that I will discuss ad nauseam. I have also developed an obsessive compulsion with knowing the weather in every location other than my own along with following local news stories with a ferocious enthusiasm. It was at this point my brother made it clear - it is time for me to make a move.

After doing the math, over the last 28 years I have moved a total of 26 times. I have come to define "Moving" as relocating all of my possessions for a time frame ranging as little as 4 days to as long as a year. This vagabond lifestyle has forced me to narrow down the important things in my life into a single suitcase. You know, the things that matter, the things that if I died tomorrow and all that was left of me was this suitcase, it would really tell people about who Meddy Hurd was... 

Suitcase Contents:

- Miscellaneous unworn Brooks Brothers shirts accumulated over 10 Christmases.

- A picnic sized cheese board set complete with two silver serving platters gifted by my grandmother for all of my... "entertaining".

- 13 "How to" books each one serving as a reminder of my eclectic array of fleeting interests... UFO spotting: New England, Australian Walkabouts in the Bush, and Jillian Michaels - Ripped (this was a seriously awkward time for me). 

- A pair of blue leather pants with a busted zipper I said I'd take to the tailor... 2 years ago.

- An embarrassingly expensive leather jacket that I purchased under the delusional "treat yoself" influence only to be rudely awakened by the Sallie Mae reality train. 

Clearly, I have been like a hoarder, carrying around an assortment of shit that I have no use for. As I eliminate many of the "things" in my life that I have either outgrown or just never needed I get confused as to whether it was all of this stuff that has made me who I am or kept me from it, I suppose it's a bit of both.  Nonetheless, as I prepare for the next chapter of my life and what will be my 27th move Im taking a more critical inventory of my packing list and embracing the less is usually more.