Someday, I will say, "going back."

It's August 31 at 6:26pm (at this precise moment), which means in ten days, almost to the minute, I will be boarding a plane that, God (and weather and air traffic and international borders) willing, will be the first leg to Istanbul.

Things are coming together, it seems, all of a sudden. I got my student visa a couple of days ago, which means they'll let me into the country. When I get there, I'll need to get a resident visa, but that's there and not here. My plane tickets are purchased.

When I arrive, I have a place to stay. It was iffy there for a while. I managed to secure one half of a double room in the girl's dorm, but that did subject me to dorm food--something I'm not a huge fan of (after two years of watery broccoli and gristle stir-fry, I'd like the chance to cook). G., the other student going (from Coe, my school), told me--almost in passing--that he'll be living in the International house. And I managed to secure the last room there. I don't have a balcony or a garden...neither of which I was expecting, so it's really not the end of the world.

So now, I get to wait. I don't have my schedule yet, but they're still confirming when classes will be, so I'm not behind. The only thing left I need to to is practice packing. Yes, practice.

The plan is: one large checked bag with a duffel stuffed inside. For rather obvious reasons, it needs to be under fifty pounds. And clothes get heavy fast. So "practice" is an appropriate word.

My days seem to be attached to a pendulum. One moment, I'm giddy with excitement, the next, I'm utterly terrified.

Although I have traveled extensively, I've never done it on my own. I've always had the option to point to the adult nearby and say "they're the one with the visa. Ask them!" There's always been someone else to keep me from being arrested (okay, there's never been any reason to, but at times like that I go into "worst situation" mode, even if there isn't a reason). In addition, I'll be going to a place where English is not the official language. Most people there speak it, but I need to learn Turkish. Much, much faster than I have been. Without looking at anything, I can say "hello," "yes," and "I am reading."

In other travel news, Chelsey Scheffe, one of my friends from high school, has spent the past month in China, working at New Day Creations. When we were seniors, we had the chance to go to New Day and help out. Her blog (besides being well written with great photos), here, has photos of the guest house where we stayed. There's a picture of a photo of us (us: the entire group, plus some of the Chinese students), and it brings back a wave of memories. We used to have sliding competitions down the long, heated hallway, and pile on the couches for evening meetings, and playing feather sack (hacky sack, but a bunch of tin disks attached to feathers so it jingled every time you kicked it) in the courtyard.

Someday, I'll have memories like that from Turkey.

m.

Bent Objects

I saw the book Bent Objects (sort of by Terry Border) about two weeks ago, fell in love with it, and the proceeded to fall in love with his blog (it's more of the same). Check it out here.

Here's a small spattering of what he does:

And my personal favorite; not a parsnip, but a carrot zombie:

m.

compiling

I've begun compiling a list--at least in my head--of things I need to take to Turkey.

It's recommended that I only take one suitcase and stuff a duffel inside of it. I think that's what I'm going to do, although I have a sneaking suspicion I'll end up with a couple things that won't fit into the one bag.

However, Turkey is known for its textiles, so my logic is this: the less I take, the more I'll have to buy when I'm over there.

See how well it all works out?

There are, though, some things I know I need to take.

Brandon, for one. Not taking a camera to Turkey is like not taking air when you go scuba diving.

Emma and Emily, my laptop and iPod, respectively.

I'm an advocate for naming technology--I think it works better when you name it. For those of you who know me slash my technology, Ed, my former iPod, is just that: former. My mom recently got a MacBook (she was Maggie before she was out of the box), and while Emma is still mine (named after the fantastic Mrs. Peel of the original Avengers), I got the new music player. While I prefer the shape of the first generation (it's a touch), he's a bit titchy.

In my opinion, he just rebelled against his name. The full name is Edward, and although that's his name (don't ask; we've established I'm strange, and let's just leave it at that), he doesn't seem to like it.

So now there's Emily, and she's coming with me.

I also need to decide on a book. I sincerely hope one will be enough. It needs to be long, to last me the 16 hour flight to Istanbul plus two layovers, but I can't fill my bag with books.

Currently, I'm thinking that the unabridged Les Miserables will be good. I've read the abridged version and I like it, it's about 2,000 pages (should last me at least a month), and since I reread The Pillars of the Earth earlier this summer, it's out.

Some pens, my journal (maybe a second), and drawing pencils.

I'm still trying to figure out if there's something else that's vital. This is the first time I've spent this much time anywhere out of the country (although it often feels as though Iowa is). A good sense of adventure, I suppose, would be a good idea.

And excitement. Excitement would be good, although I think I already have it covered.

m.

Team Vlad the Impaler

In less than a month,

I

Will

Be.

In.

Turkey.

Turkey.

Istanbul, with all of its history and architecture and colors and smells and nature and ruins and people, like a giant maze or playground--or both--like the most complex flower you can think of, unfolding just below my feet.

Can you tell I'm just a bit excited?

Currently, I'm waiting to get my student visa from the consulate in LA, trying to figure out where I'm going to live, and picking my classes. (Lots of architecture, with some Turkish history thrown in. J.--I never expected Principles and Reforms of Ataturk to count towards my major.)

It's hard to believe that it's coming up this fast. I'll be leaving on September 10th, so now it's crunch time to see all of my friends here before I go.

When I decided to go to Turkey, it never occurred to me that (within this context) America was founded by Christians. Turkey was not (at over 99% Muslim, I would say not). While this doesn't bother me, it means that winter break does not line up with Christmas. In addition, I only get two weeks. Therefore, I will not be coming home.

Therefore, it will be a solid nine months before I see anyone here again.

That's not the hard part of all of this. I just look at it as part of the trip. And besides, I'll make friends over there.

The hardest part was saying goodbye to my now-senior friends. Since I'll be gone for all of my junior year, they will have graduated by the time I get back to Coe.

On the other hand, it's a relatively small payoff for Turkey.

Turkey!

I quite enjoy having my friends from school come out so I can show off my home (and so I can see them, too). I love Tacoma, and although I am biased, it's a pretty spectacular place. So is Washington as a whole. M. has been out for about the past week and a half (I have way too many friends whose names start with M), and, once again, I got to show off my home state.

As is almost required, we made it out to the Olympic Peninsula. It's one of my favorite places in the country, and I always enjoy hearing people talk about how much they love it. Which M. did quite a lot. Driving around Crescent Lake, it suddenly occurred to me that riding with her was like having a caffeine-crazed biologist bubble sitting next to me. In all the good ways, too.

Like almost any member of my generation (well, at least the nerdy ones), I am a Joss Whedon fan. It began, like it did for most, with Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog. It's a spectacular three-part internet show about the way our society is breaking off into different fractions, and the often absurd ways post-modern thinking comes out in our day-to-day....

....Okay, it's more about an evil "superhero" trying to take over the world. But it has Neil Patrick Harris! And lots of singing! And it's better than it sounds!

But, long story short, I started noticing Whedon. Firefly was the next step (space western, better than it sounds), and then, thanks to K.'s suggestion, I began watching Dollhouse.

(As a side note: from the reviews, I have a sneaking suspicion it sounds like the only thing I do during the summer is watch tv shows. This is not true. However, summer does offer a bit more time than finals season.)

Dollhouse only ran for two seasons, and although I'm not done yet, I'm decently close.

The basic premise is this:

Volunteers who are having difficulties with their lives can become actives for five years. Their memories are wiped, and then, when they are hired, other memories are imprinted. Say someone wants to hire a thief. Topher (resident programming genius) imprints the active with all the memories they need (how to bypass a security system, etc.), but also the memories of "their" childhood. The active believes they are that person.

Echo, the main character, is starting to remember, both her previous imprints and who she was before she became an active. On top of that, add DC's politics, politics that operate beyond DC, and people whose semi-questionable morals allow them to do that, and you've got Dollhouse.

While I absolutely adore the premise, writing, characters, and questions the show raises, I have an issue with Eliza Dushku, the woman who plays Echo. She doesn't quite--I think--have the range to play everyone she needs to with the "purity" of character that's needed, which is too bad. Everyone else (at least, those who are actives) seem to have it.

All in all, quite worth seeing. After all, it is Joss Whedon.

m.

Your nose could guide you through this maze.

My old roommate is in town with her dad, and the other day we went up to Seattle. This is the second time J.'s been here, but this time she's going to see Forks, too. She's a huge Twilight fan.

Of course she is. Why else would you go to Forks? Unless you happen to have access to a silver volvo and enjoy watching people's jaws drop. (I'm currently waving with a maniacal grin.)

Whilst in Seattle, city of people who don't learn from their mistakes (as stated by several Seattlites), we went on the Underground Tour, which I'd never done before. That's what happens when you've lived somewhere for your entire life--you never get around to doing all of the tourist things, even if some of them are worthwhile. And was it ever worthwhile.

(We didn't see any rats. Although I did smell something foul. No, wait, those were just the Tacoma slurs.)

We also went to Pike Place (where I have, in fact, been before).

My favorite part (apart from the flying fish and Market Spice shop and the view) has always been the flowers. I love all of the brilliant colors; the unusual combinations, of both color and flowers--the base and highbrow together; the occasional UW bouquet (purple and gold).

But most of all, I love the juxtaposition of the thousands of dollars worth of flowers in plastic buckets, the kind that always carry a warning label about how little water it takes for a child to drown, and be cautious, please, we don't want you to sue us.

m.