February 12- On the Plane

My entire life has been reduced to two suitcases and two carry ons. It’s seems like so very few things, yet I have almost everything I will need. I say “almost: because I already know I forgot the USB connector cable for my digital camera and they confiscated my saline solution at security in Bozeman. Yup, turns out salt and water and other contact solutions are being used by terrorists to bring down planes. Such a simple thing, but who’d even consider it? It’s probably a good thing they took mine; I would hate to think I was endorsing terrorism and the demise of the United States by taking CONTACT SOLUTION on a plane. Also, the liquid constitution of my luggage was reduced to a quart sized zip lock bag. Not a whole lot of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, perfume and make-up come in 3 oz or smaller bottles, and very few women can actually manage to keep what they need under quart-sized quantities. I myself thew away shaving cream and anti-wrinkly spray stuff. Terrible loss.
By now the reality of my trip and the implications stemming from my decision are becoming very real. There is the primary concern that I will make it to San Fransisco in time to make it to my next flight (the one actually taking me to Sydney), whether that plane will actually make it there, and really, whether it will have been worth sitting cramped, for hours and hours and hours, on planes, to arrive in a country where I know no one and am, for the first time in my life, truly alone.
When I say “alone”, I don’t mean in the way leaving for college was “alone”. I mean it in being truly on my own; when I left for college, I moved from my parents house to my brother’s house. I have always had my family there, and although I understand they will always be there, thirteen thousand miles has a way of making family ties seem a bit stretched.
Want to know what my favorite question people have been asking me is? “Are you excited?”
Half the time I feel like telling them NO. You know, moving half-way across the world, changing everything about your life, from clothing to culture, isn’t really that big of a deal. You know, Australia just doesn’t really float my boat. I just felt like spending an enormous amount of money, changing schools, packing everything I own into two suitcases (okay, and several boxes in my parent’s house) and flying for almost twenty hours sounded just about average. Not exciting. Not stressful. Normal. Whatever.