Departure

I awoke with that familiar surge of panic that inevitably crashes over my head when I am on the verge of uprooting my life. (My hands are so sweaty, I am having trouble typing!) It’s a nervous mixture of fear, excitement, and straight-up dread of the approaching 15 hour flight. Perhaps I am simply suffering from the cumulative exhaustive effects of three solid days of partying, but this morning I find myself bursting into tears at the flimsiest of excuses - a particularly dangerous disposition on a day when the news stations are determined to pluck your heartstrings with sappy retrospectives of the year’s most horrific events. Fortunately, 2006 was a relatively calm year national tragedy-wise, but I did catch myself weeping over the footage of President Ford’s funeral - not because I was so devoted to his two years of ineffective service, but I was just so moved by the way the marines glides across the room then click their heels when they turn…it was beautiful, man.

I would love to spend the rest of the morning drinking coffee and droning on about the ever flowing emotional tides that are sweeping the sands of change along the shores of my psychic beach party, but I kind of disappointed myself with that last string of metaphors, and I really must pull myself together in preparation for a long day of goodbyes, well wishes, and chile verde burritos.