(A quick note to the older, and possibly only, readers of this (Mom & Dad): The line directly above this was a reference to the once popular song by pop-icon Justin Timberlake who made the claim he was "bringing sexy back." I cleverly, in a sort of metaphysical conceit, compared my own efforts to bring blogging back to his much more publicized efforts with sexiness. I can only hope my blog meets the lofty standards that I have just set with such a comparison.)
Real quick, this will be scattered... I will be leaving for the airport (I almost typed plane station) in just under 12 hours. The title of this post contains no fallacy. I have not started packing yet. Quickly calm the waves of panic that undoubtedly just flooded your veins, I am probably already on the plane. It's hard for me to start packing without wondering, is something so monumentally momentous always preceded by something so trivial? Everybody has been asking me if I'm packed yet like it is the most arduous, taxing endeavor I will be taking on in the next couple of months. Packing is putting underwear in a box, calm down. I long ago decided there were more important things to do before I left than pack. I even made a list. Last on the list: start blog.
I can't quell the notion that I am writing this to an audience of nobody. Well, nobody but me. I guess that is okay. This whole trip is intended to be about me. Except a few voyages to and through Canada, I have never been out of the country. Yes, Canada is a different country. After tomorrow I won't be able to say that. I always thought voyages to Europe were reserved for the rich kids, and I am far from wealthy. I am flying over the Atlantic Ocean tomorrow. I cannot begin to fathom what that truly means to the rest of my existence. I will be able to sit with my father during Bond films and go "Oo, I've been there!" during every other chase scene like he does. I can tell kids on my tours that I did study abroad, not that I am going to. I am going to Spain! This is going to be the grandest adventure of my still somewhat young life, and I haven't started packing. I'm an English major. I can find a metaphor here.
I want to be naked when I arrive overseas. Not in the physical, clothing sense, although anyone who knows me, knows I would not be completely opposed to that either, but in the mental sense. Naked to the world around me, with no barriers opposing experiences and feelings that I might otherwise enjoy. Stripped bare of preconceptions, of doubt, of ethnocentrism, of fear. I want to walk bravely into this new world: embrace its people, live its culture, taste its fruits. I want to be naked when I arrive to Madrid... but I can't. I need to pack. I might even be able to sleep tonight.
Make sure to let me know you're reading this. I will try to make sure I let people know when I post through as many venues as possible. If you create an account you can even follow me... I hardly know what that means. The prospect is definitely either cool or creepy, maybe both. Hang loose.