Far away

She’s packed up her bags, she’s heading out
She says, “I know that I’m ready,”
With such beautiful doubt.

Here’s where I wax poetic about distances and the spaces between. With a few steps, a car ride, a transatlantic flight, I leave behind the place I have lived for 22 years. I leave behind what I thought I knew for something I want to know. I exchange dollars for pounds, boxes for suitcases. I exchange endings for beginnings, the minute the plane leaves the ground.

My suitcases are too heavy to lift comfortably. No doubt I’ll struggle to pull them off the baggage claim, and someone will have to help me before I either fall over or knock someone out. My head is a storm of conflicting worry and excitement. No doubt I’ll hesitate at the gate, doubt myself and my plans.

The feeling of anticipation has been keeping me awake. I haven’t slept more than the bare minimum in two weeks. There’s too much to do, too much to think about.

And when I take my seat on the airplane, I’ll lean back and daydream as the plane lifts off. I’ll feel all of the doubt and worry fade away and leave behind only the excitement. With my headphones on, I’ll give my journey a soundtrack to be proud of. Leaving songs. Love songs. Life.

And by tomorrow I’ll be in England. And cold.

Far away far away, I want to go far away.
To a new life on a new shore line.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another island, in another life.

Let the packing begin

Nine days left until I traverse the seas to Newcastle. And I’ve started packing! See?

My theory so far is to lay out everything I WANT to bring and see what fits. I’m going to have another suitcase as well, but I haven’t picked it up from my grandparents’ house yet.

What am I bringing so far? Zoom in!

A Canadian flag that I bought for $3 the day after Canada Day. It’s huge and awesome. Underneath that, if you can see it, is my brand new umbrella which I bought because I’m going to one of the rainiest places in the world.

One of many coats that I’m bringing. People tell me that cold in England is colder that here in Ottawa. I still don’t believe them (my eyelashes froze last winter!) but I’m still going to be prepared! Also, on top of said coat is the book I got from Newcastle University. It’s quite giant but very pretty and not terribly heavy, so I’m going to attempt to pack it and see what happens.

And here, under a pile of clothes, is one of many scarves I’m packing for the same reason as above coat. It all looks like quite the mess right now, but it’s getting there!

I’m trying to fit my whole life into two suitcases. Mostly, I’m bringing clothes. What would you bring and what would you leave behind?

Welcome back

I finally finished my summer job yesterday. I have tried to refrain from complaining much about it on here, because a) people who know me in person are REALLY tired of hearing about it, I’m sure b) I don’t really think it’s appropriate to publish something that only tells one side of the story in a complaint against an institution that I’m employed at and c) I really still love the museum and a lot of the people there, it was just this particular job that ended up being quite ridiculous.

Anyways. My point is that I am now FREE. My job distracted me from posting (or doing much of anything with my life) but now my blog-cation has officially ended, pets, and I’m going to try my best to go back to posting everyday or at least almost everyday. I certainly have enough inspiration now, as I’m leaving in 11 days.

In other news, my Xbox is now a $150 piece of useless plastic which I will NOT be bringing with me to England. I give up. The world does not want me to play Fable.

One month…

There’s this feeling in the pit of my stomach. A constant gnawing of excitement and fear. My head is in the clouds - rain clouds, this summer - full of scenes, acts and lines. And I play my part in my imagination. Girl meets life.

It keeps me up at night, like a kid on Christmas Eve, too full of anticipation to sleep. I lie on my stomach, hoping that if I sleep this way my stomach won’t remind me  as I try to distract my mind by listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat against my arm. It beats a countdown. 33…32…31…

One month, it says, ringing through my head, swirling my thoughts into a confusion of to do lists, bank drafts, airline tickets and new beginnings.

One month, my heart echoes. To say goodbyes, to share laughs, to eat at favourite restaurants. One month until I decorate a new apartment, explore a new city, meet new people, learn new things. Live.

One month until I leave behind everything I know. But one month until I get to start anew. How do you reconcile the opposite feelings?

Questions

I was fine until I started thinking.

This is a phrase that could sum up my life. I’m fine until I overthink things, turning them over and over in my mind like chewing a piece of gum so long that it disintegrates disgustingly in my mouth (happened to me once… traumatizing, really.)

I was sitting in front of the computer, looking up flights. “Do I want to leave from Ottawa or Montreal?” I asked myself, scrolling through the flight options. I tried to imagine. Sitting in the backseat of the car, two hours to Montreal, the comforting familiarity of Dorval Airport. Or driving the 20 minutes down streets I drive everyday to the Ottawa International Airport. I’ve flown through Montreal everytime I’ve gone to Europe, what would it be like to fly from Ottawa? Surely more convenient?

And then I started thinking.

I started picturing the drive, picturing the departure gate and saying goodbye to my parents. And then I thought, “Oh God. I’m going to leave the country in two months.”

And not just that. I’m leaving for an indefinite amount of time. When I went to Ireland I knew I was coming back in four months. I had a return ticket, I had a job and another two years of university awaiting me here.

The last few months since I found out I had been accepted to grad school, I’ve been living in the present with a very vague idea of some interesting future. First, I was thrilled. Blinded by the newness and excitement of it all, caught up in just saying the words out loud “I’m going to grad school. In England.” Then I was too busy making sure it really could happen, trying to graduate and get the money I needed to go. But none of it was real.

And Tuesday it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started freaking out.

I have no place to live, I don’t know a single person in Newcastle and everyone I love is going to be on the other side of an ocean.

I am excited. Beyond excited. But I’m also half terrified. There’s nothing for me here, no reason for me to stay. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to step outside of this comfort zone - the city I’ve lived my whole life, where I know directions and people and have favourite places. Where I went to school, where I worked, where all of my connections are.

There are so many questions running around in my head. What’s Newcastle like? Will I like my program? Will I be good at my program? How am I going to find a job when it’s over? What am I going to do? Did I make the right choice?

I wish I had a switch to turn off my brain right now, so I would stop overthinking this and let myself enjoy it for what it is - an adventure.

“Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the road less travelled by and that has made all the difference.” - Robert Frost