It seems to me that this whole process is very much like flying on an airplane for the first time*:
Buying the plane ticket: Totally stoked
Driving to the airport at 5 am: Totally tired
Going through the gate: Oh wait, what? This is actually happening..?
Waiting in your seat: Totally freakin out
The plane starts to move: oh shit , oh shit
Fast : mental back peddling- faster- holy shit, I take it back, I don't wanna go- faster- Regret!
Take off - HOLY FUCK
"We have now reached our cruising altitude"
- oh hey, this isn't that bad at all. Neato.
*Incidentally, this is both a metaphor for my Summer and literally what I expect my reaction on the plane will be like
Right now I guess I am in the 'totally tired' phase, where I foresee the mountain of stress looming in the distance shrouded in a fog of anxiety. I would rather not have to deal with packing and tying up the remaining loose ends before I leave, but alas.. .
I also already foresee me mentally back peddling, digging my heels in the ground as my rationality grabs me by the wrists and drags me to the airport and the new home that awaits.
(This has very much already started- I have three weekends left in Seattle, I have to be all packed before I leave for Montana on the 27th, and now friends are returning to Seattle- these are ingredients for a big ol' piece of reality that is extremely hard to fully digest)
BUT, I do also realize that once I am on that plane at cruising altitude - gnoshing on free snacks while perusing the Skymall catalog for their newest line of lifesize Anubis statues - I will breathe, calm down, and eventually fall into a Tylenol PM induced slumber with dreams of my adventures yet to come*. . .
* Incidentally these adventures will probably include something about robots, t.v. show characters, and/or the apocalypse*
*Source: Every other dream I have
