Ticking Away the Moments

So maybe I'm not the best at keeping up with a blog--there are worse things in life, aren't there?

I'm 13 days out from leaving behind my two homes (because once you live in Chapel Hill, it will always feel like home) for a two-week love affair with New Zealand (wherein I ultimately decide to drop out of school and become a sheep herder) and a five-month stay Down Under. I'm less nervous than I was when I last posted--I don't know whether to attribute that to the fact that I've nearly finalized all my plans for New Zealand or to the immense cabin fever that continues to close in on me.

I've been at home for nearly two months now. As the child of divorced parents, I've split my time running back and forth from one parent to the other and filling my days with books, movies and missed television shows. I've had more genuinely enjoyable time with my dad than I've had in years (at least since I've left for school) and I've gotten a closer look at my increasingly goofy mom and her continually emerging quirks (her dance moves are getting better, I think). I've now seen half of the nominees for Best Picture at the Academies (and, surprisingly, I have yet to be disappointed), rewatched New Girl two times over ("I hope you like feminist rants, cuz they're kind of my thing"), three-fourths of Wes Anderson's filmography, and read more non-school-related things than I have in nearly five months. And while this break from the everyday stressors of class, multiple part-time jobs and worrying about paying for rent/groceries/etc. has been precisely the break I've needed for some time now, I do kind of miss the routines and familiar faces of the university life I've grown accustomed to.

It's odd returning to my childhood room as a long-term visitor--it's less comfortable. I'm not living out of a suitcase (yet), but this isn't really my home anymore. I miss the independence of having a key to an apartment I pay for, my friends being no more than 10 minutes away and even the familiar environment of the classroom. While I could do without the 2 a.m. coffee breaks, the bullshit papers that somehow coalesce into something mildly articulate and the truly discouraging cold, rainy, miserable days that make me question my overly optimistic initial desire to go to school somewhere other than Southern California (or anywhere, for that matter), I do miss learning and I do miss all of the more pleasant aspects of Chapel Hill that I frequently take for granted.

But with just over two weeks left I'm not going to count down the days until I go or envy the life I know I could be having had I chosen not to go abroad. I have to decide what to do with the time that is given me (you didn't think I was going to post about New Zealand and NOT mention Lord of the Rings, did you?)--and I've decided to spend it as I have the past few weeks: enjoying the invaluable time I haven't had with my parents in years, appreciating the comforts of a home that will soon be 8,500+ miles away and remembering to love the sound of silence that will soon grow unfamiliar. Adventure is waiting--but it can hold on just a little longer.

Down the Rabbit Hole

It's two days before Christmas and I'm finally picking up where I probably should have started months ago--in the blogsphere, that is (I'm sure Samantha and Paige are smiling down on me from afar). I've got a floor buried somewhere beneath a lifetime's worth of piled up belongings (and some garbage, I'm sure), that have now carried me through 2.5 years of college and 21 years of life in general. Looking at that--and looking at where I'm headed in the next few weeks--I'm finally starting to realize the 'weight of stuff' that can drive people to drop it all and lead spartan lives or, conversely, live Queen of Versailles-style and just build a bigger castle (yeesh). I'm more inclined to head the spartan route--mostly because I'm moving to the other end of the world in 47 days.

Still trying to let that one sink in. The inner wanderer in me is indescribably happy. Australia? How many people get to go anywhere near Australia in a lifetime? How did I get this lucky? Before March of this year I'd never even been out of the country--and now I'm moving as far away as I possibly can (sorry, Mom and Dad, it was bound to happen eventually).

Conversely, I'm a nervous wreck. Here's the hard part: I'm a bit of a clothes hoarder and a nostalgic soul who holds on to things for far longer than I probably should. Now I have to learn how to pack up my life into one suitcase and one carry-on for a 6-month period--fun, right? On top of that, I still have to figure out my classes, my housing, and how I'm going to accept the fact that, from here on out, everything's going to be new, uncontrollable, and scary as hell.

But in spite of all that, I'm a nervous wreck who unashamedly beams whenever distant relatives and family friends ask about my plans for the upcoming semester. How couldn't I? "Australia?! If there is one place I always wanted to go..." Who couldn't grin hearing something like that? Now it's just a matter of figuring out whether the wanderlust in me is stronger than the part of me that's become an undeniable ball of anxiety. I'll get back to you on that one.

So I'll end my first ever blog(?) blog post(?) on an upbeat note: My very first nickname as a child was Little Wing. (In case you haven't heard it). Soon I'll be walking through the clouds and, even if I'm heading into unknown territory and the minor control freak in me is going to have to take a sabbatical, it's alright, I say it's alright.