We all know it is true, packing sucks, especially packing a whole apartment up. I’ve spent the past four hours packing up the past semester into neat boxes labeled Xerocopy, Williamsburg Plus international Paper and Willcopy Ultra. To the casual onlooker it would look like I enjoy paper, a lot. Sadly, there is no paper in these boxes, no smooth white surfaces of writing perfection waiting for the right pen to come along to burst the virginal white bubble they present themselves as, begging for the cold drip of ink to stain their perfect façade and turning them into the dirty dirty girl they are, lifting her skirt to flash the absence of an undergarment, slowly licking her lips and taunting him with her eyes. He makes his way over to her; pulling at his tie, sweat beading off his forehead like the fresh dew on a summer morning. He positions himself over her, eyes focused on her alabaster white skin. He can’t take it anymore, the stiffening in his trousers is too much, he pulls out his mighty sword, clicks it and writes, “Pick up milk.”
In the boxes are the remnants of the past year. Halloween costumes, pencils, pens, folders, hangers, ties, shirts, shot glasses, bottle caps, posters and clocks fill the innards of the boxes clearly designated for paper. Its like filling a void in ones life, except the void is a box, and instead of filling it with ice cream or alcohol, its filled with papers and pens.
RAMZ was a nice place to live. Clean, relatively quiet, nice security guards and free utilities. If it wasn’t school housing, and if it didn't have a tragically slow elevator, I would have stayed here. However, I decided to move into an apartment, my first apartment I may add, and it is bitchin’. Two floors, two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, an entrance room and a nice kitchen complete with a counter we can turn into a bar. I know I’m paying a lot for this place, but the price in comparison to the quality of the living space and the location of it, more than makes up for the pricey rent and lack of included utilities, except water and sewage. The allure of off-campus living promises a whole lot more than living in student housing. For one, parties. I know I won’t be holding and huge parties, we are on the second floor right next to the landlord, but just the fact I can have people over, whenever I’d like to and I wouldn’t have to sign them in and, lets face it, “good times” are to be consumed. Also, I am even closer to campus than I ever was living in the dorms.
So, in just 3 weeks, I will be in my new apartment. Excited? Of course I am.
Yeah there was no difference in the last picture, but then again, looking at an impending hangover is a whole lot worse than looking back on a hangover. 
