Lackhead.org

After all of these years, you would think I would have learned how to pack before I have to leave the house. I firmly avow that I am mentally incapable of packing with less than 3 hours before my departure time. Here it is creeping up on midnight, leaving the house at 3:45am, and I’m still throwing stuff together. No, the lacrosse stick is not going. I feel simultaneously under- and over-packed. I have strict weight limits on some legs of my flight, so I have to be careful. I also don’t know how the border gestapo is going to like the 6 cans of chipotle peppers I have in my suitcase (essential traveling gear, honest). For a guy who likes to think of himself as calm under pressure, I’m a bit nervous, and am alternating between sweating over the packing, and playing Guitar Hero to help break up the tension. Anybody who’s been around me the past two weeks has for sure picked up on the subtle agitation I’ve got going on.

Does it seem sane to spend this much money to travel half-way around the world, just so I can plop down in a foreign country and immediately take a test on their language? Shouldn’t I be climbing instead? That seems so much more, well, peaceful. Less complicated. Safer. Which, I assume, is just why the hell I am doing this.

It is finally starting to hit me that I am actually leaving. That I quit my job, which means I have an entirely new world that I will be returning to. That returning without the ability to laugh at the right spots in Amelie without the subtitles turned on means I just blew a big wad of money for….well, I wouldn’t say nothing. This should be an experience no matter what, no?

Yes. Methinks yes.

Avoir, mes amis! Catch you all on the other side of the pond.

-c

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