I'm talking to myself at night

So yet another blog. I actually told myself never ever to start a new blog with the typical 'oh, what do I want from this'-entry, but anyways, here goes another one.
I'm moving out in 15 days, today is the second day in a row I barely slept. Back to fucked up sleeping schedule? Whatever.
Again I am thinking about all these questions I never wanted to think about again in case I ever created another blog. Should this here be official? Do I want anybody to have this link? How personal should it get? I am obsessed with getting comments, that's the thing, so the temptation of giving the link to other people is really really big.

Imaginary interview with myself.
Hi, how are you today?
I'm okay.
-silence-
I'd like to be creative again, I have all these ideas, but this place is a dump at the moment, made up of boxes and stuff lying around. Stuff that doesn't fit into my moving boxes any more, stuff about which I cannot decide whether I should bring it or not, things I want to give people before I leave, things left behind from my trip, things I clearly do not need any more, but also do not want to get rid of because they remind me of good times.
Good times? Can you explain that?
Sand from the beach somewhere between Morro Bay and Cambria. Or my sleeping bag, the one I especially got for this trip. The Forever 21 bag I got when I bought something at the store in Torrance, duct tape I got in DC.
Why do you keep all that stuff? Except for the duct tape and the sleeping bag, none of these things are of big value.
They are for me. I keep them because I connect memories with them. I got the duct tape with Harry, my hosts flatmate, after having breakfast with him at some hip cafe in Adam Morgans. After that we rode our bikes around DC, and I was scared as hell. The Forever 21 bag reminds me of how I picked up my host, who also became a good friend of mine, from work everyday. How I spent my time shopping while he was working, walking around, getting Jamba Juice for the both of us, sitting on that one bench outside the store, reading the book I got for free when walking through San Francisco, listening to music and waiting for him to close the store.
And what about the sand? It's just sand, nothing else.
For you it is, yes. But I fell in love with the Californian beaches, and that one day after we went to Hearst Castle we stopped at the beach again and there was this really special sand, entirely made up of tiny stones. I grabbed some and put it in the plastic bag where we ate cheerios out of. I kept it for my entire trip and made sure not to loose it, ever.