The time before the beginning, the end of the first part.

I'm sitting here in the kitchen with maps spread around me, a full cup of coffee that's growing cold and marking possible rail-way paths with a sharpie in the gray morning light. It's strange, because I've been planning this trip (or planning on it rather) and catering to the idea of it for nearly a year now. My mentality was always that it was far on the horizon, untouchable almost. Now, it's a week and a half till my departure and it still doesn't seem real. People keep asking if I'm excited, which is sort of irritating really because I don't know if I am or not. I'll be excited when I'm on that plane hopping across the Atlantic- that's when my heart will catch in my throat with anxiety and anticipation of who knows what. I'm going into this without expecation or any clear form of a vision. When I'm asked what I'm expecting or what I'll do, it's like asking a blind person what their favorite color is. I'm quite fuzzy on all of this, like I'm groping in the dark.
As of late I've been "settling my affairs." Finishing up my reapplication to SUNY New Paltz, changing the oil in my car, cleaning through my room, and setting up my journey's finances.
I had a small moment of freedom when I took the stud out of my nose and replaced it with my old ring, something that isn't allowed at the theater I work at. Thursday is my last day of work and I'll be bleaching most of my head and dying it pink again. The bleach kit I bought is sitting on the backseat of my car, wrapped up in its paper bag. I stare at it from time to time, thinking I'll be back soon. Here comes Ashley, where has she been?
There're small creature comforts that I'll miss, the tiny little parts of everyday that we barely notice. Large cups of coffee, mmm. My bed, my shower, the smell of my house and the stacks of books filling my room. The larger things are a few friends, and Mike. Those blue eyes. Climbing into bed with him to watch a movie we've seen a million times. The way he smells. Things I can't take with me.
All of those things I'll return to, they'll be waiting for me when I come home with arms wide open- they're constant and there's no need to worry about all that.
You're going alone? people say with such disdain. Are you scared? they ask. That's a stupid question, of course I'm scared. But if I didn't do things because I was scared I may never have left the space between my sheets. Alone? Of course. If I had to wait for someone to go with me, I'd never leave the shores of Long Island. I'm going. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm tired and worn out and I need a change of scenery. I don't know what to expect. Here goes the great leap of adventure, the small step to new.
Wish me luck. I'll be updating this as I go, sort of a mass email to any of you who may actually read this. I'll miss you all!
Drink up baby, look at the stars.