I'm packed, right to the brink of all weight and size limits. Here's hoping AA doesn't make a big stink and let me through.

Seriously, I'm leaving tomorrow? In four hours? I'm still not mentally processing this. I think I told JJ I was going to try to be packed early and leisurely prep myself mentally for the year ahead. Clearly that has not happened.

I know I'm excited, but right now I feel more overwhelmed and tired than anything else. I just want to be there and start this next part of my life already, but at the same time, I can't fully understand that I'm not going to be at home anymore, not going to see my family or New York. I feel like I'm starting college again, and that is just too surreal to think about. Part of me is nervous in the same way: suddenly meeting tons of new people, hoping to make friends quickly, hoping I get along with my new roommate. I mean, we are based out of a college campus for heaven's sake. My mind can't handle it. I felt like I was cheating on Wesleyan when I visited Lesley University's education department and wondered what it would be like to go to school there.

I know I'll feel genuinely excited and refreshed once I get there and have time to settle in and know what I'm dealing with. But for now, I want to lay in bed and dream about those small sweet pockets of memories I left in Paris and Japan.

Officially leaving on Monday!!!!

I can breathe again. Now to start packing.

There are strong rumors and whole lot of panic on FB that AmeriCorps is postponing the Denver group until January or February, at the earliest. The Sacramento class already found out yesterday that they're going to be pushed back a month and have some members cut.

I am supposed to fly out to Colorado in SIX FUCKING DAYS.

They can't do this. This was my dream. I already sat on my heels for 5 months. I can't fucking believe this. I hope to god this is just a rumor, but I don't think it is.

Goddamit America, I know your economy is fucked up, but this is NOT the place to cut corners.

I'm shaking.

I caught up with my friend Lucy over breakfast--- I haven't seen her since we left India last spring. Since then, she chopped off her long hair and I grew out my boy hair. She's going to London to study Asian art(!). Even though we are all scattered now, I love that my friends are setting out and doing amazing things.

I met with Amy Waldman, a retired NY Times journalist turned fiction writer. We've technically known each other since I was 12 from an enrichment program I was in, but we've never really talked before. I'm in awe of what she's accomplished in her life so far, but I particularly admire how she really listens to others and genuinely cares. It turns out that she graduated with little clue of what to do with herself and just started working odd jobs to make money. She had done a research paper on South Africa in her senior year and became deeply interested, even though it had nothing to do with her major, and decided to move there for awhile. She ended up staying there for over two years, reporting on crazy political climate there at that time out of sheer necessity, and discovered she had a knack and passion for journalism. My jaw dropped. Let me tell you, it is deeply reassuring to know someone can stumble for a good while and still find her way.

I asked her a million questions, but what I found most rewarding was how much she seemed to really believe in me. It was more than just reassuring me I would be fine--- she gave me whatever advice she thought would help, recommended people and books to check out, insisted that we stay in touch... she seemed completely certain that I was going to be fine. She told me th at, like her, I have a need to continually challenge myself and break out of my comfort zone, and that was the quality that helped her the most when she was figuring out what she wanted to do next. It is frightening, but exhilarating to see the future as a blank slate. Even though many would consider writing for the NY Times to be the ultimate dream job, Amy said, "Sometimes it feels like my career was a detour that brought me to my current passion for fiction writing. I don't know what I'll be doing in two years either. Isn't that exciting?"

Everything has brought me to where I am standing now. I am surging into the future and supported by every present moment.

I may not always feel that way, but I am going to keep trying to bring myself back to this point. It's the truth.

And I can't even sleep it off, because I forgot that the more upset I am about something, the harder it is for me to actually fall asleep, no matter how exhausted I am.

I feel so bad for my grandmother. I'm ashamed. I'm powerless to change her circumstances, but I know I can do my bit by calling her more often. I am just reeling from seeing her today. I wish I could take her in, give her a small job, surround her with people who love her. I wish I could make the rest of her life peaceful and satisfying. She deserves that.

She keeps trying to give me things. Expired candy, bits of her savings in red envelopes. I am too blessed with everything I could want or need, but I wish I had a hole left for her. I take them, but it breaks my heart. I just want her to be happy, but she can't unless she can give something to people, feel useful and needed.

We need to take care of our older generations. Please. I want someone to take care of me when I am senile and confused and useless. I want to help create a world where people take care of each other.

My parents also grew up believing love means sacrifice. They keep letting me know that they're willing to give me everything they have, that it was all for my sake. Even now, when I am finally ready to provide for myself, they can't stop. Even now, when I feel like I am loving at my best, it is because I am most willing to give what I can to others, all the best pieces, and save little for myself. When I can't do that, it doesn't feel as real.

That honestly scares me. I am missing part of the picture, and maybe deep down I already know what it is, but I can't see it right now. What happens when you can't give anymore?