Though there aren't too many things in the world I hate more than being on an airplane, the movie struck a chord with a certain introverted side of me, the side that enjoys being alone. Living out of a suitcase without any attachment has a certain appeal. The lack of any meaningful human bond means that I will no longer have to worry about letting people down, which negates the need of coming up with excuses to justify not attending people's birthday parties. Besides, who would say "no" to getting to travel all the time? I think I would enjoy that, especially since the company will be paying for all the expenses.

But being completely detached is easier said than done, a realization that dawned on me when I moved to a new apartment a few weeks ago. What surprised me was the amount of stuff I have accumulated over time in my modest one-bedroom apartment and the excruciating pain that I endured while packing it. Even more surprising was how unwilling I was to part with these belongings ―a really good book that I would probably never read again, a small gift from my high school swim coach, a framed picture of my friends, and many other small things that were unessential to my survival but had become integral pieces of me. I used to think that I was a free spirit that would go wherever the wind takes me. While that may still be true, I wonder if the wind is willing to carry my books too. Besides, your physical belongings are only the smaller parts. Your larger burdens, as Clooney cynically pointed out in the movie, are your relationships. Since I am almost at 400 words, maybe we will continue this discussion next time.