Jitters and Twitter

I feel a bit like I'm slowly siphoning my presence out of the real world and into the internet. There is less than one week left until takeoff, and the next few days will be packed with tearful goodbyes, the cleaning out and packing up of my possessions, and the 'official' passing off of the non-profit organizations and projects that I am currently in charge of. At the same time, however, I have started this blog, set up Skype and AIM accounts, and obsessively filled out the Gmail contact address option for every person I have ever known (the better to send them all postcards). As a result, I am left feeling like there is somewhat less me, and more... e-Me.

Now, this is all well and good. Some days ago, however, I hit a new low when I became a Twitter-er. For those of you who have so far managed to sidestep this new 'cultural phenomenon,' Twitter is an online social networking site obviously created by someone who liked the concept of the Facebook status update so much that s(he) decided to house these updates in (what appears to me to be) a completely superfluous new bastion of e-narcissism.




Sometime in the past week, I finally figured out the one redeeming use for Twitter: during extended and perilous whirlwind journeys, it can be used to assure Facebook-less parents that one's physical and mental faculties are more or less still intact. It was this weak utilitarian logic that convinced me to procure coveted Twittering privileges of my very own. Furthering my shame, I have procured a widget which displays my Twitters, in all their glory, in a location just to the left of this post. Here's to describing the world's wondrous bounty in 140 characters or less!

Rest assured, concerned reader, that some slightly more serious (and less ridiculous) steps toward trip readiness have also been taken since last I wrote. The Boyfriend and I have scoured the city in search of guidebooks, phrase books, anti-bacterial travel towels, and a first-aid kit stocked with enough antiseptic and painkillers to allow us to perform amputations in the backwoods of Nepal. (Just kidding. Seriously, do you know how heavy that much antiseptic would be?) Phone bills have been canceled, adequate (i.e. very, very comprehensive) medical insurance has been located, and, most importantly, all of our favourite restaurants have been revisited. (What? I make my own fun).

In short, my to-do list has been substantially whittled, and while it's by no means ready to hit the recycling bin, we're basically ready to go. By that, I mean that almost all necessary equipment has been purchased, finances are arranged, and adequate measures to ensure our health and safety have been taken. I don't, of course, mean that I could skip off to the airport right now without a second thought. Nine months is a long time to bounce around the world without a permanent (or even semi-permanent) place to rest one's head. The realities of heading off into the Great Unknown (which, from what I can tell, looks absolutely nothing like The Known) are looking a lot more...well, real...this side of September. And they're getting in the way of the glee.

But that's okay. 'Travel,' after all, isn't derived from the Latin word for 'having a gay old time.' It comes from the French 'travail': work. I'm going to see a lot this year, do a lot, and learn a lot. Hopefully, I'll have a blast. But I know that the two aren't synonymous. And I'm okay with that.

Now, if you'd like to find me in two months, homesick, mud-covered and coffee-deprived, and make me eat my words...be my guest. (Although not really, actually, since I won't have a house. Find your own hostel.)

J :)