This is actually happening, isn't it?

There's a poll on Facebook today regarding the new live-action film adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are, asking: What is inside of you? Hope? Fear? Adventure?

To be completely honest, I have absolutely no idea.

I'm incredibly hopeful for this whole process I'm about to go through. I seem to be doing all right so far with keeping my head. I'm nearly packed (except for my carry-on) and my papers are all well-organized. I'm looking forward to flying again, seeing cities from the sky, watching clouds dissipate over the wings of the plane. I'm looking forward to seeing where I'll live, to running errands when I get there, to being completely exhausted and loving every minute of it.

I'm also completely terrified. At least I'm admitting to myself that I feel like that. It helps more if you, the reader, imagines Jon Osterman's final moments in Watchmen. Trapped in a study chamber, a lab rat as it were, with forces much more powerful than he is. He's completely, 100% terrified. However, his narration over the scene, right before his disintegration, says "I feel fear for the last time." I'm hoping to have such a destructive/rebuilding experience once I leave, but in order to change you have to feel fear for what you're about to lose.

There's also this part of me that's looking forward to complete newness. The part that's inexplicably looking forward to getting lost in strange cities, eating entrees whose names I can't even pronounce, embarrassing myself without fear of repercussion. There is an adventurous side of myself, one that I've never really let shine before.

So what the hell. I really don't have any choice at this point but to go for it, but I do have a choice in how much I really commit to this. I'm thinking 150% might suffice.

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In other news, I haven't seen my family much lately. There is always a Crisis Du Jour where my dad works, which can't really be helped. My brother is busy with marching band practice and senior-year-of-high-school drama, and when he's not on Facebook or out with his friends or at a music lesson or at young men's Bible study or at Scouts, he's doing homework or sleeping. Boy just doesn't quit.

My poor mother has been back and forth to the East Side (for reference, we live in the northwest corner of Columbus) every workday for the past three weeks taking care of my ailing grandparents. Every day it's something. My grandmother's doctor's appointment to check for platelet levels. My grandfather's doctor's appointment to help discover the state of his memory and if it can even be improved at all at this point. My grandmother's hospital observation. My grandmother's blood transfusion. And since they can't drive, it falls upon my mom to do everything. Today it's a brief doctor's appointment before they start going into finances, closing bank accounts and paid-off credit cards.

It's really not fair on my mom that she has to run two households at once, cook two sets of meals every day, put those miles on her car, but there is no one else we can turn to that can do these things for us. My mom can't just say 'no, I can't take my mother into the hospital.' Things just don't work like that. The worst part is, there's only one doctor's appointment so far next week... why couldn't 'next week' have been this week? I kind of needed her home for guidance and for a car so I could run last-minute errands...

Speaking of last-minute, I have about eleventythousand things I need to do before I can consider myself prepared for departure, so I guess that means putting in yet another movie (I've watched probably 20 movies in the last week and a half) and organizing my backpack. I'm going to what might be my last high school football game tonight, so there will probably be no update later. See you on the other side.

- Jen -