I'm packing tonight for Turkey. I'll be in a remote region, in Van (pronounce Juan because of the strong Hispanic connections in the Middle East), and I'm trying to prioritize my things. What matters most to me? What will provide the most entertainment? What can hold the most heroin?
I have a 72 disc binder; it has three seasons of Buffy, the collected series Firefly, a few video games to get me through the Pankratium (November 22nd), and some throwing stars. They're just for goodluck - I haven't had to use them since January. I also packed ten or so books to get me by before my Kindle arrives. One day it'll show up at my door, and I'll think to myself, "I should've changed those stupid locks." We have a destructive relationship, but I can't get away.
Mostly I'm just scared. My parents built a nice new house on the lake, and I don't want to leave it. My dad and I sat on the porch this afternoon and read until I finished my book. I don't want to lose that. In the end I know I'll be thrilled to be in Turkey on Tuesday, but the goodbye tomorrow is the part I don't like.
I leave Sunday morning at 7:30 a.m., and I'll arrive in Ankara, the capital of Turkey, at 4:00 p.m. on Monday. It's called time travel, and it's one of the services I offer. I'll be in Ankara for two weeks for training.
I can't fit my multi-tool into the heel of my Chaco. I want to have it on the plane just in case I'm in an emergency exit row, but the security guards always confiscate. I thought I had them fooled, but I can't make it work. They'd never think to look in my shoes.
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