Journey of a thousand steps begins with at least a few stumbles

Anyone who knows me likely knows that I do not too often win any accolades for my grace or organizational aptitude. It's probably no surprise then that my year-long journey to the Philippines came within minutes of a minor disaster. It took longer than expected to clear my apartment of three years of accumulated junk and by the time I got to the airport, the gate was within minutes of being shut. I made it through despite the ticketing agent's initial belief that the gate was already restricted. What good is life without a little bit of excitement eh? I do probably owe some sacrifices to the Lords of the Jetstream though.

Considering my usual flare for procrastination and forgetfulness, I suppose my preparations for the trip could have gone worse. I only spilled one box of stuff in the garage, managed to pack most of my toiletries (razors, floss, etc.) deep into my storage, and neglected to return a few things to my landlady and ISP. Still, any trip that begins without me losing my passport or being stuck overnight at an airport is probably a victory.

The trip itself went smoothly--without delay or too many screaming kids, and with an empty seat next to me during the longer-leg of the journey. As for the Philippines itself? There's a sense of unreality about it all. It still doesn't seem quite real yet that I'm going to spend an entire year in a foreign country, doing a job that's rather foreign to me, and living a lifestyle that I'm quite unaccustomed to.

My apartment is obscenely large...to the point of inconvenience. In a country of shanty towns where families of dozens can squeeze into a couple of rooms, I have to walk 26 paces (yes, I was bored enough to count) from my bedroom to the door, and have four bathrooms, two bedrooms, and a "maid area" to be inhabited by me, myself, and my lonesome. Even with my propensity towards messiness, it'd be quite a challenge for me to damage this place too much.

There's little else of great excitement right now to report as I struggle to leap through the bureaucratic prerequisites necessary before I can actually start working. I'm sure as the year progresses, this page will be filled with the my usual complaints about the world's fucktardness, prophecies of gloom and doom, and endless expositions on alienation and my seperation from the masses of humanity flowing around me. For now, I can just say that life ain't too bad when all I'm complaining about is having an apartment large enough to do laps in.