I Don't Believe in Omens.

Some people believe in a little thing called "fate" or "destiny". That some greater force is at work, pulling strings and sending us on our paths, hitting us up with a million little "signs" along the way letting us know if we're heading in the right direction, or dissuading us from going farther down a particular road. These are the "Everything Happens For a Reason" people.

Luckily, while I'm a firm believer that everything always works out in the end, this whole idea of "signs" and "omens" is not one I subscribe to. And it's a good thing, too, because if I did then I probably would have gotten a little suspicious when yesterday, every time I tried to pack my car it started pouring. And this morning when, right after saying "Ok, guess it's time to go..." I stepped in a big puddle of some doggy's regurgitated breakfast (barefoot) and had to spend a few minutes being grossed out and cleaning up. And when I tried to drive away with my car running only on the battery and not actually turned on, I would have questioned whether or not leaving was a good idea. Throw in the poor little bird who I hit on the way to Brockville, and the fact that it stormed on and off all the way through Pennsylvania, and I would have been thinking I should have never gotten out of bed.

But, if I really did believe in omens, the point where I would have absolutely turned around and gone home would have been when, just before arriving at the border crossing, I saw another poor little bird lying dead in the middle of the road. A robin. My namesake, smeared across the center line. As if fate were telling me that if I were to continue on, to leave my country and everything I know, I could very well end up like that unfortunate piece of roadkill.

Luckily, I don't believe in omens.

But truthfully, that didn't stop the sneaky claws of fear from digging into me and hanging on, inducing a few moments of sheer panic and silent "what the eff am I doing??" freakouts. But then, some random lyrics popped into my head... some flowy, guitar-laden song whose name and artist escapes me at the moment, but who claims "fear is a friend who's misunderstood". Which, if you think about it, is completely true. While fear may stop some from doing what they want to do, it ultimately just challenges us to be the best and bravest version of ourselves. Without fear, there would be none of the ecstatic and proud feelings of achievement. So, in sticking with the theme of the song, I accepted fear as my friend. And all of a sudden, it wasn't so scary anymore. However, some of my uncertainties still remained, along with some left-over baggage that I probably should have dealt with long ago... but I knew exactly what to do with it.

Since I got my own car (lovingly called "Chazz") back in January, I've had this little mind-trick that I use when things build up and get to be too much. I go for a long drive, during which I think about whatever it may be that's bothering me or holding me back. I picture all these negative thoughts and feelings draining out of my body and filling up the car, until it's all out of me and Chazz is filled to the brim. Then, I open my sun roof and watch them all fly out into the sunshine, flung into the universe to disperse at will. Yes, it's corny. But it works. So, that's exactly what I did. All my uncertainties and fears and "what ifs" got tossed out the window like old garbage (but not really, because I'm now a good little environmental student, and I would never litter...), and I made my way through New York and Pennsylvania a lot lighter than before.

So, a bunch of hours, a few hundred kilometers, a back-road adventure, a few massively amazing gothic-style stone railway bridges and 162 songs later, Mom and I are lying in a hotel room in somewhere Pennsylvania, 7 hours away from my final destination. Tomorrow I'll get into my new city. The day after, I'll move into my new house. The day after that, I'll attend my first review session at my new school. Everything's new again. And while that thought is both exciting and slightly terrifying, I know that this fear is only going to push me to be a better and stronger version of myself. And for this, I can't wait.