I woke up today panicking.
I discovered it’s really not a nice way to wake up.
I lay there, stomach in knots, staring at the wall as my brain ticked into overdrive. I hadn’t packed, I still had to unlock my phone and hope that It worked, I still had odds and ends to sort out and collect, and the reality of what I was about to do all by myself had slowly started to trickle into my head. See, i’m an expert at deflecting, denying, and all manner of ‘Winging it’.
but It seems my casual attitude had started to crack.
‘Meh, it’ll be fine’ could be my anthem. The song of my people- but the family saying is ‘Where theres a will there’s a Wheatley’… and you know what? I like it. I’m a touch stubborn on occasion, a touch forceful, a touch dertermined, and maybe just a bit touched in the head, but this plan, This Year Of the Con is a-go in T-minus -oh fuck, not that many minutes AT ALL- It’ll be starting.
Hmmm.
…I have to come clean, the other family saying is ‘If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance baffle them with bullshit’.
I tend to live by both credos, and at this moment both seem highly appropriate.
So I’ve loaded my ipad with movies, Everything’s plugged in and charging, copies of documents are safe in pockets, passports are within site, my bag is plump but easily zipped at 18/19 KG, and all I have to do is sleep.
…
And then came the calm after the storm as I sat in bed, good ‘ol reality squeezing itself into the silence and spare room in my head and my bags, ‘Did you forget that?’ ‘Will you have enough money?’ ‘What if your bags don’t get to the right airport?’- on and on and on my evil brain went. No actual packing to distract myself this time.
My phone buzzed.
A fantastic friend, ready with a dose of ACTUAL reality, not the disaster movie i’m perfecting in my head, pops up on the little screen. Perfectly timed, tricks and tips and pep talks start clogging up the chat. We’re talking time travel, planes traveling faster then the speed of sound while racing over oceans towards new continents- gadgets and gizmos and fist bumps.
We’re talking about the OTHER.
SIDE.
OF.
THE.
WORLD.
you know what -Fuck worrying.
I may not be able to find the shirt I wanted to wear, but tomorrow Im going to America.
~Jess
Dingobait 