Shit is getting decidedly real (or: Me and my first-world problems)

My BFF is coming over soon to take me out for some cleansing pho en route to the airport. That's right, the actual airport. Shit is getting real!

I have had an excellent day today, starting with a trip to Mitte for breakfast with two of my favourite people, who were so kind and loving and behaved as though I were not going to see them for several decades. One of these peeps bought me some flowers.

Adorable flowers and Costa Rican flat white dregs.

Then I came home and discovered a huge bunch of 'problems', namely not being able to choose only three nail polish shades to take with me.

THIS IS A SERIOUS ISSUE, FOLKS. I've also got to cull my lippies quicksmart. I'm thinking a pink, a red and a nude. 

I actually had a teary episode today that was both completely predictable and totally surprising. At one point I had a deep sense of OMG WHAT AM I DOING and I started crying, thinking it's all too scary, I don't want to go anymore. I call this phenomenon Year 9 Canberra Trip Syndrome (or Y9CTS). 

When I was 14, I went on a school trip to Canberra. In the lead-up to the event, I was shitting frisbees with excitement. I spoke to my friends on the phone for hours each night, talking about the minutiae of adolescence (probably deciding which poisonous variety of Impulse to take along and scheming how to get Triple J played on the coach, much to my twentysomething revolt). Broadly speaking, we were going to have the best time ever. Our nation's capital wouldn't know what hit it. 

Then, when the time came for me to don my hideous standard-issue maroon and gold tracksuit and go to the airport to actually attend the 1997 Year 9 Canberra trip, I had a sobbing fit on Mum's bed, telling her it was all too scary to be away from them and I didn't want to go anymore. 

I have also suffered from Y9CTS when I moved to Melbourne, except that day it was too hard to tell my mum about it. I suspected was scary for her too, and so I didn't say anything. I sat on the bed in the room that used to be mine, crying into my hands, trying not to show anyone I was having second thoughts. 

I also had a minor bout of Y9CTS last time I went overseas. And of course, today. But it didn't last. I spoke to some loved ones who all assured me I was going to have the best time ever (forever-ever, forever-ever) without a shadow of a doubt. 

So, I am going to go chuck some cosmetics in a bag (because really, no-one gives a flying fuck what colour my nails are -- oh hang on yes I do) and get me to a pho purveyor. More as it happens.