I have three weeks left before I leave everything and everyone I've ever known,
and the feeling is surreal.
I won't know anyone.
I won't know the places.
I won't know the culture.
But that is a little exciting.
I've been painfully drudging along on a scholarship essay that
I probably should have written earlier in the summer,
but the bland prompt just leaves me staring at my computer screen
The good from that is that I ventured to the library earlier this week
('ventured' because Franklin attractions now seem as unfamiliar as they ever have)
and checked out a couple traveling memoirs to aid in research for my essay.
It was a delightful surprise because they are quite mundane writings
that capture the realness of travel...
you know, the kind of realness that the travel channel tends to leave out.
I didn't want the candy coated stuff...
Aside from my essay, my visa and money situation haunt me,
and growing up has never seemed as real as it has now.
But I like it.
It's kind of exciting to wonder how I'm going to find a job and how I'm
going to support myself,
but I think it's my hopeless romantic side that tells me,
"Struggle sucks, but your parents did it, and things will fall into place eventually."
Isn't that the point of this awkward transition from young adult to...adult?
At this point I relish the little moments
and await my biggest adventure thus far.
My plane leaves in roughly three weeks, and time isn't slowing down
for me to get everything done.
I hope Europe is ready for me.
(I hope I am ready for Europe...)