Last Day in the USA and Being an Awesome Girlfriend

Well, folks, it's my last day in the USA. Unless you count tomorrow morning, which I don't because travel days are essentially nowhere days. Airports simply don't count.

As many of you may know I've been crafting a nifty little advent Calendar type project to give Casey while he awaits my return. And it turned out awesome! It was super fun to make, too, and last night I finally gave it to him. Check it out:

Awesome, yes? It basically a little hanging curtain of pockets, each of which contains a little weekly gift! There are a LOT, because I'm going for a semester but I have the option to extend for a year, so this calendar has enough pockets for a year's worth of weekly gifts. Potentially this means extras but hey, extras are better than falling short, right?

I've preemptively photographed all the items, so you can see how awesome they are. The first one is, in fact, my transnational heart, the inspiration for the poem, this sweet little hanging map heart my stepmama made me for Valentines day:

In less adorable news, I'm all packed up and ready to go. 46lbs of luggage, just barely missing the 50lbs mark! This evening I got to say goodbye to my fambam during a conveniently timed joint birthday party for two of my cousins. Also, since they were having chili dogs, and I'm a veggie, I brought a burrito and killed two birds with one stone; saying goodbye to the loud, lovely Fessendens, and saying goodbye to the joy of Mexican food. Oh, burritos, how I will miss you.

In closing, I'm super tired and Karen made me an awesome copper ship necklace that I forgot to post a photo of in the last blog. Behold:

Stoked! Good night!

Packing is Poopy

Some people like packing. I'm not one of them. Packing sucks. I think I've pushed it all to the last possible minute, too. I guess that's because in addition to packing up what I'm taking, I also have to pack up what I'm not taking to put in storage. Yuck. Luckily I had Casey and Kelsey around; they made me put on all my clothes and then voted on them to the soundtrack of the Knife, which, if you're wondering, is an excellent soundtrack for that kind of thing.

Handy dandy voting cards. Kelsey added smiley faces to the "NO" cards so it'd seem less judgmental.

Turns out the majority of my luggage is socks.

Strangely, these past couple of days have been more or less calm. Rather more calm then the ten day mark, I'd say.  Deep breathing, etc. But I'm still at least a little bit freaking out. Luckily, my friends and family are awesome, so I've been having a lot of fun not packing. For example, Casey and I went to the Jelly Belly Factory on Friday, which was awesome. Everyone should go. It's free! And they feed your face.

Om nom nom nom.

And I had a tummy-stuffing taco night with Karen's family that was super yummy. Especially since Karen brought my favorite ice creams (raspberry sorbet, coconut and dark chocolate gelato, ahh!)

My super sweet goodbye ship from Karen!

Ten Days Till Takeoff

When I woke up this morning, I realized I've reached the ten day mark and it's finally starting to dawn on me that I'm leaving really fucking soon. There have been all kinds of winged creatures in my stomach today.

I'm officially in list mode (more so than usual, even), but I haven't actually begun packing yet. I have been doing the "quality time" thing though. This Friday, for example, I spent the day screen printing T-shirts with my mama, brother and Casey, and last night we had a nice pig-out sesh, complete with berry crisp Uly made himself. Impressive.

 Printing with Uly.

 Super sweet awesome printed shirts. And Mishka.

 The doofiest "fambly portrait" you ever did see.

I am going to miss my fluffbutt puppy dog so much. Any ideas on how to make sure she won't stop loving me while I'm gone?

Anxiety and the Giant Dipper

I recently spoke to someone who pointed out something very interesting about anxiety and excitement. She had me conjure up each sensation, and compare the visceral, physical feelings that they created. Interestingly enough, they were nearly identical. Each subtly sped up my heartbeat and my breath; each created a tightening in my belly.

As someone somewhat prone to anxiety and stress, noting these similarities has been useful in that it allows me to perform a transference of stress and worry into excitement. As my trip approaches, my mind is intermittently flooded with all the looming unknowns I’m scheduled to face, but with some conscious effort, I’ve been able to turn these fears into anticipation. The unknown is what keeps life interesting; leaving for Spain is a choice based on my desire to experience the unknown, to challenge myself and embrace upheaval, unpredictability and change.

As the days pass and my departure approaches, I’m reminded of a rollercoaster. (Specifically, the Giant Dipper at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, which I’ve been riding a lot lately.) 

The most terrifying part of a rollercoaster is the slow, painstaking ascent. The ride creaks up, foot by foot, and as you approach the top, and look out at all the people milling about with both feet safely planted on the ground, you begin to wonder if you’re insane, why you’d ever boarded the ride in the first place, and, of course, if you’re going to die. But once you take the plunge, the adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you’re swept along in a whirlwind of exhilaration that leaves you wind-tousled and energized. (And, if you remembered that the camera is on the second drop to the left, you’ll have posed for a ridiculous photograph.) 

Goofy and cliché as this metaphor is, it’s been useful. Every now and then, I wonder if I’m insane, why on Earth I’ve signed up to fly away from everything and everyone I know, and why I think I’m capable of taking classes in Spanish when school is challenging enough in English, but ultimately, I know this is just that nerve-racking ascent and eventually I’ll be plunging headlong into an amazing adventure that will make it worth my while.

Visa Victory!

It's official! Yesterday I drove to San Francisco, waited around in the frighteningly quiet Spanish Consulate for far too long, and finally picked up my student Visa!

And then, of course, I had to celebrate, by stuffing my face with Todd at a Burmese restaurant in the City. Delicious, but deadly.

 My potato curry.

Todd's chicken and noodle creation, which provoked the comment, "Tressa, I feel sorry for you, because there's no way yours could be as good as mine."