Ikea and Bittersweet Partings - Chimes Opinion Article

It's official. I have decided to move out of my old apartment. Strangely, despite their own consideration to move, my roommates have taken the initiative to fill our apartment with new furniture from Ikea, which as far as home furnishing goes is one step below Lego's and yet one step above Mega Blocks. In a profound statement of our status as college students, it seems we have finally taken the initiative to make our living situation comfortable only a few weeks before abandoning the entire project for something completely different.

After spending close to a half hour vacantly staring at a display featuring a complex mechanized robot repeatedly opening and closing a flimsy swedish kitchen cabinet, I decided that maybe I should be spending less time looking at home decorating items at Ikea and perhaps spend more time actually trying to find an apartment to move in to. My concerns however were distracted by my roommate Jon, who took over the isles by standing on a shopping cart and drifting circles around elderly shoppers.

Ikea has a strange effect on a man. Stepping into one vignette we were immediately convinced we could live in a space roughly the size of a shoe-box provided that we decorated the living space entirely with products we couldn't pronouce or type correctly. When Anthony expressed his desire to buy a Flarke i quickly snapped back, "What'd you call me?!" with a fist raised high. The tension was rising. Realizing we we're lost we took a break in a vignette with furniture composed entirely of sharp right angles. Together we sat down realizing that this may be one of the last times we gathered together as roommates.

This is a Flarke.

Summer comes with these moments, when parting is met by opportunity for something new, and excitement passes anxiety with an awkward nod of recognition. It's times like these when we have to ask ourselves the questions we're most afraid of, “when will the next season of LOST start” or even more terrifying, “am I capable of actually taking care of myself?” I don't know. I'm not a doctor. Although my mother may try to tempt me with the promises of free housing and food for the summer, much in the same way I am often tempted by strangers in white vans offering candy, I have to turn it down if I'm going to make a life for myself. Besides, that candy is probably Necco Wafers. It's a sick world we're living in.

After being informed too late that the vignette bathrooms are not actually functional we decided it was time to leave. Check out was immediately complicated when Micah refused to buy a television stand with the insistence that despite his weekend-long marathons of playing Final Fantasy he "never used it." In response I asked him what the Flarke he was talking about. We left without it.

This past year we have braved chapel over-crowdings, duels against Michael Cera, and severe over-pricing of chicken nuggets on the Mc Donalds dollar menu. It hasn't been easy for either of us. If the film Beaches has taught me anything, it's that Bette Midler might be more manly than me, but friendships last forever. So I dedicate the next paragraph to remembering all those tough times, ideally with a mental slideshow featuring you and I sipping from the same milkshake, riding a tandem bicycle, and holding each other at the edge of the Titanic.

I don't wanna wait, for our lives to be over. I will remember you, will you remember me? Don't let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories. I hope you had the time of your life. My heart will go on.

Shhh. Don't speak. Wipe those tears from your eyes. The summer has come, and with it we must give a sweet parting.
Don't ever change.

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