Have any of you experienced a hurricane firsthand? The screaming wind that mimics banshee fury? The raging angry walls of water that look exactly like approaching blocks of see-through TV static? Large objects being thrashed by that fury and translucent static? Well, I’ve been in four and have never been injured or lost anything of any value. I’m very lucky. They’re dangerous, tormenting, and boring (if you’re stuck in a shelter in the local high school like I was for H. Floyd, or if you don’t have flashlights on vacation and have to run your cellphone dry because there is nothing else to do like in H. Charley).
But they can also be artistic and inspiring–like the one in the guest bedroom was today. What a sight to see, it was! The tumbling white crests of shirts and pants were piled on the bed in such a tizzy I could scarcely seek shelter beyond the closed bedroom door. Tussles over whether or not I should bring the pants my mother likes over the ones that I enjoy wearing escalated into the blowing breath of near violence. And more than a few big objects (including my dream journal and my winter coat) flew across the room at 200 mph. No water, thank God. Though it is only six-thirty.
I spent the entire day struggling to properly pack all my junk into two suitcases that fit the weight requirement and my ability to carry them from terminal to terminal in LAX. Shockingly, I succeeded. Now I can relax, if by relax I mean listen to the warnings with which my parents and relatives and friends are trying to bury my optimism. They forget that I am responsible enough to ask for help and to be aware. They forget that I am smart enough not to leave a bar or restaurant with absolute strangers, or hitchhike (which is illegal anyway), or place myself in precarious situations because of peer pressure (which rarely affects me anyway). I forget that they’re just trying to protect me and instead wonder whether they know me at all.
 Oh well. I leave on Tuesday and I cannot wait to step foot on Australian soil and call it home. Within my first week in my new adopted nation, I will have learned how to surf, visited the city’s famous open-air markets, and strolled through the Melbourne Zoo. I feel so fortunate for this opportunity.
Australia Bound
Jordan
Quote of the week:
“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.” -Rosalia de Castro
