Ready, Set, Wait!

Ahh, bureaucracy.

I've received my grant authorization from the Fulbright Commission, along with several packets of important-looking and suitably stern legal notices of precisely what the Commission will and will not pay for, do, or take responsibility for. Then I'm to sign four pieces of paper to agree that yes, I do actually really certainly definitely (for reals this time guys, seriously) want to do this. I feel vaguely like I've signed my soul away, and I should've been zapped by lightning or turned into a muskrat or something when my pen left the paper.

Oh, and on the last page, they happen to mention that they want two more passport-sized photos. Good Lord, how many photos of me could they possibly need? Do they just receive them, glance at them, throw them in the paper shredder, promptly forget what I look like and (seeing as how my appearance is critically important to whether I'm a qualified candidate, which should be clear at this stage anyway) desperately motion to their overworked secretaries to (sternly) order me to provide two more?

I know I shouldn't be complaining about this sort of thing, since they're going to be paying for my life for the next year, which is very kind of them and I'm quite grateful. I simply can't stuff down this feeling of itchy impatience to be away at last, but my way is still blockaded by several barriers, foremost of which is the completion of my senior thesis which, thanks to the kind and patient advice of one Dr. Stayskal, I might finally have a shot at finishing. Then there's the road trip to Oregon and Cali, which is less of a barrier and more of a slip'n'slide made entirely of squee, and then moving out of Serenity House, and then, five days later, I'll be at last in the air on my way to a new everything, assuming Eyjafjallajokull doesn't decide to sneeze again. (I did indeed have to look that up; thanks to the miracle of technology, all I had to do was type "Ey" into Google and the Interwebs read my mind. Which is good, because "Ey" is all I could remember.)

All this to say...there's not much new going on here. I feel almost exactly like I'm on a very rickety roller coaster, slowly and jerkily lurching my way up to the top of the first drop. The approaching peak looks an awful lot like a freefall into space, which may or may not have track underneath it, but either way I've forgotten to pack a parachute, so all I can do is hang on to the bar and brace myself.