15 Weeks

I leave in 15 weeks. September 22 (or thereabouts). If I could phrase this more elegantly, I would but shit's gettin' real now. I bought new luggage this weekend, a duffel bag so large that I could fit into it comfortably in the fetal position. I dread to think how heavy the thing is going to be when it's crammed full of clothes and shoes and other things I think I can't live without.

My dvd collection keeps growing at an alarming rate and I fear I may have to leave some behind. I'm trying to determine which movies I can't live without (my mom would say all of them). However, Amazon.com one-click shopping is not making this any easier. I keep buying seasons of Alias, 30 Rock, Gilmore Girls, Entourage and The Golden Girls because I will miss them like friends. I dread to think of leaving the States without Liz, Jack, and Kenneth the Page. Or Vince, Ari and Drama. Not having Lorelai or Rory to keep me company. Especially when the only British television I'm comfortable with is the exports we're got here.

I tend to think of myself as a bibliophile, bookworm, book nerd, whatever. I have three bookcases overflowing with all types of books - fiction, drama, poetry, non-fiction, you name it. I own more books on the Kennedy clan than any reasonable person should. All the Harry Potter books - both British and American editions. All will be left behind and with great sadness. But I cannot, cannot, cannot, bring myself to purchase a Kindle. I won't do it. It's not a book. It never will be. I'm on the computer enough to know that my eyes couldn't take gazing at the tiny screen very long or enjoy a book that way. So I'll have to leave behind all but a few selected tomes that will fit into my backpack. There are too many favorites to choose so I think my course of action, my plan of attack, for this the most difficult of packing decisions will be...to simply buy some new books. Just so I won't have to choose.

Thoughts on soccer and the South

I've always been a soccer, hmm...excuse me football, fan. Not only am I a fan, but I'm a former player. Played the sport since I was four and had to be told which way to go (picture three somewhat confused four year olds being asked "Which way are we going" and dutifully pointing in the right direction). So needless to say I've been looking forward to the World Cup since, well, the last one. Interesting thing, though, this World Cup. My home country will be taking on my future residence tomorrow. Is it wrong to hope it's a draw like the two highly unsatisfactory matches (I'm looking at you France) were today?

On to other things: The South is getting hammered with everything from floods and tornadoes to the oilpocalypse in the Gulf, the sacred waters that hold one of the staples of Southern cuisine - seafood. I'm upset as the next person about this, especially since it's happening in my backyard to the people of a region that has been left behind in nearly everything (granted, part of that really is our fault). But I've noticed that the South gets dumped on constantly. We're hicks, rednecks, ignorant, backwards, reactionary, racists...We get it. We know what we did. We live with it and are reminded of it every damn day. Not all of us are like this though. So while we appreciate the outpouring of support and help and concern, how about acting like we're a part of the nation all the time instead of just when something terrible happens?

One Roundabout Way To Get To Europe

I'm scouting flights now for September and hope to book in the next month or so. So far, I'm planning on taking Southwest to either Baltimore, Philadelphia or Boston then flying Virgin Atlantic or Aer Lingus to London - whichever is cheaper. However, I'm still looking at other airlines and keeping tabs on prices. I checked Kayak.com today during my lunch break and I have a question for United Airlines: why is it necessary, if I want to fly your airline, that I travel from Nashville to Chicago, Chicago to Los Angeles, and Los Angeles to London? Really? You realize that is the complete opposite direction I need to be going, right?

Never Gonna Happen

The contents of my closet will never, ever fit in to the luggage I already have.

I pulled out two suitcases today and packed what I plan to take with me. Well, not everything but a lot of the things that will be coming with me. After twenty minutes I realized it's definitely going to take two 29-inch suitcases to get me to London.

No Whistlin' Tonight in Dixie

While the oil spill in the Gulf has dominated news coverage, we here in middle Tennessee are being ignored by the national media. A good portion of the county I live in is underwater. We were spared any damage but some very close to us weren't so lucky. The Opryland Hotel is flooded. The Grand Ole Opry is flooded. Interstates are closed. Houses, cars, businesses are underwater and no one is paying us any attention.

I'm a big believer in helping when you can. It's our duty to our fellow man to help when others are in trouble. We  donated to the Clinton-Bush Haiti Relief Fund and so did millions of Americans. The money will help rebuild schools, repair roads, build new infrastructure, house the homeless. But where is the outpouring of money to help do those things here? The President didn't so much as mention the flooding here today. Keith Olbermann of MSNBC summed it up perfectly: Flooded and Forgotten. Indeed.

A Piece of My History

I found out last night that my great-grandmother died on April 15. She was 104. There wasn't a funeral, just a small graveside service earlier this week. No fuss. No dragged out visitation. Perhaps it's better that way. I visited with her when I would go see my grandparents. She really had no idea who I was. Her short-term memory wasn't very good anymore. She knew I was a grandchild, just not which one or who I belonged to. I feel privileged to have been able to meet her, to know her, because most people don't have that opportunity. I have know two of my great-grandparents. My grandfather's father lived into his nineties and I saw him a few times before he died. Though I didn't know either of them well, it is sad news to hear. She lived a long life and I suppose no one could ask for more.

In other news, good thing I emailed the admissions office yesterday because my attendance confirmation never made it to London. They let me scan a new one in so I hope everything is fine now. Is someone trying to tell me something? First my housing form doesn't make it, now my attendance confirmation. Everything should be taken care of now. Four and half months.

Accepting What Cannot Be

For as much as I complain about the heat and the humidity (oh God, the humidity) in the South, I believe I secretly love it. Summer really is a beautiful season in the South - the full greenery, vibrant flowers, homegrown tomatoes, and the buzz of locusts in the evening. I love wandering through the farmers' market on the weekend and eating Ripley, TN grown tomatoes and sighing with relief when the Georgia peaches finally come in. These are the things I will miss when I move.

I had pictured myself at law school at one of the fine institutions of the Southeastern Conference learning Constitutional law and civil procedure from seersucker suit-clad professors. I saw myself clerking in the summer at the Southern Poverty Law Center in Birmingham or working on a political campaign. I wanted to learn a new school, to singing Hotty Toddy or Glory, Glory to Ole Georgia at football games, to proudly display my Tennessee Alumni status when they took on the Volunteers. I wanted to settle myself down for three years and in that time gain a career and maybe a partner to share life with.

I'm learning it's harder to accept what isn't or can't be (well, yet at any rate) than it is what is. I know realistically that I could come home and enter law school and become a Rebel or a Bulldawg. With law school there would have been certainty. I would have known what my career would be and have an idea of where I was heading following graduation. Because I'm a planner, this appealed to me immensely. What I'm about to do, leaves me a year from now with no plan. I will have a degree, from a prestigious university, but not clue about what to do with it. What am I doing? Every once in a while, about once a week, I wonder what the hell I'm doing. Do I really want to do this? Am I doing it to cross something off on my bucket list? Well, yes and no. I want to go. I want to do this to learn about myself and what I'm capable of but I know a part of me will be wanting to be sitting outside listening to the locusts studying torts and sweating in the humidity.