The good news is that I'm now done with work for the rest of the month. No need to stress and worry about that for two weeks. As part of this, I'm leaving the country on Sunday morning.
This is also a good thing, but it does mean several hours journey time, which isn't so. I hate the actual physical act of travelling - it makes me incredibly nervous and it takes just about every ounce of mental energy I have to often not collapse in a whimpering wreck in the airport departure lounge.
Of course, I recognise why this is so. I'm a self-control freak. I like to feel that I have command of my situation at any given time. Obviously, this is usually nigh-on impossible given the infinite number of random events that can happen to us at any time, but it's important to me to feel like I have a handle of things anyways.
Which is a bit tricky when you put your life in the hands of a pilot/train or coach driver and you can't just stop at any time if you feel so. So I get more and more anxious in the days leading up, trying to reassure myself that I can back out at any time if I so wished.
I never do, though, and I won't this time. My hands may be shaking tonight and through the Kristin Hersh gig I'm going to tomorrow, but despite all the words I'll tell myself, I know deep down I'll board that plane. And when I do, the fear will almost vanish, because it's too late to do anything about it then.
All of this is a protracted way of saying I'll be gone for most of next week, so won't be writing any nonsense, unless I find a spare computer with internet access. Y'all take it easy in the meantime.
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