Everyday I log onto blogspot and a sense of guilt passes over me as I realise just how long it has been since I last posted here. It isn't that things haven't been happening. Things have been moving on quite well here as I spend most of my nights going out with friends and taking my mind off the lonliness that I still feel whenever I am left alone in my apartment for too long. I have been making sure to take daily walks in order to get out of my apartment and stop myself from taking my daily photos in the comfort of my own home. The photos themselves are coming along nicely and I am learning all sorts of nifty tricks and techniques and getting used to using my new toy. But aside from that, there has not been too much to tell. Life goes on as it always has.

One of the things that has been filling my mind recently has been the thought of what will happen when I go back home. When I arrived here with my 30kg bag, I thought that I had erred on the side of caution, had overpacked ever so slightly and put in some things that I wouldn't need. After unpacking everything into my apartment, however, it still felt bare. After almost 7 months of living here, I can certainly say that the apartment doesn't feel bare anymore. It is filled with pieces of me that I do not want to leave behind, forgotten in Korea. Should I leave behind the books that I scoured from What the Book, many of which I have yet to read? Should I sell the guitar that has been my silent companion over the last few weeks? Most importantly, should I abandon the clothes that I arrived here with in favour of the ones that I have bought? Even if that were the case, I think I would still be severely over, especially after today.

After a night of girly fun, Jess and I woke up at Maria's house this morning and after a delicious breakfast of leftover samosas and french toast, Maria started scouring through her cupboard for something to wear.
"I have too many clothes," Maria said jokingly as Jess and I watched on and tried to advise her on an outfit for the day. Too many clothes isn't her only problem, we quickly figured out. She also has a shoe cupboard about three times the size of mine, filled to capacity. She tried to pawn off a pair of bright red "hooker" heels on us, but sadly Maria has tiny feet and neither of us could fit into them. The disappointment at not being able to fit into the shoes didn't last for long though.
"I hate this dress," Maria announced, dragging out a grey Jacobs dress from the depth of her wardrobe. "Who wants it?"
Jess and I looked at each other, both thinking the same thing - I wonder if it would fit. Realising that it would probably be too small, Jess encouraged me to try it, and joy of all joys, it fit like a glove. I walked out and did a little turn, only to be handed another pile of clothes. And another. And another. On each exit the pile grew until eventually I left with eight of Maria's discarded dresses, three skirts, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Slumming it, some might say and look down on me. I see it as an opportunity that I just couldn't pass up.
I arrived home and carefully placed each item into my wardrobe, taking some things down to make space for the others until I can buy more hangers. I took a step back and looked at my wardrobe, and a realisation suddenly came over me. In June, I wrote a blog about shopping here and how addictive it is. I also admitted to being a bit of a jean-a-holic, wanting to wear jeans with everything. While this has certainly changed over the last seven months to accommodate skirts and other, thinner, shorter pants during the summer in particular, I never realised until today how much of a backseat jeans had taken. I counted them up - a grand total of three pairs of jeans, maybe ten t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, one pair of capris, five skirts, a couple of black trousers, one charcoal pair, two pairs of cargos - one beige, one olive. None of this particularly surprised me. My wardrobe had advanced from the jeans-and-t-shirt self of the last few years. And then I counted my dresses and was shocked. Eighteen. While the eight dresses from today certainly contribute towards this collection, it still astounds me. I have eighteen dresses. And these are not fancy dresses that I wear once a year to some cocktail party or other. These are dresses that I can and do wear on a regular basis, dresses that I have carefully selected because they fit me, suit me, make me a happier, lighter person when I am wearing them.

Jess says that I should leave my clothes behind, that I should sell them off piece by piece to save weight. At this stage, I think selling off my dresses would be losing a part of the self that I have grown to be. Selling the first capris that I ever owned would be tantamount to selling that memory, selling the shorts that I have worn to death during the summer would be like losing that summer completely. No, I have decided. I cannot sell the clothes that I have bought here, nor can I abandon the ones that I came with. It may sound materialistic, but the clothes that I have acquired are a part of me, reflect my personality at every stage of my growth. While I may not wear my jeans as often as I used to, each time I put them on, I remember the last time as clearly as though it was yesterday and a smile comes to my face. As long as I can fit into them, I am keeping them.

I think I am going to have to resort to shipping.