So I woke this morning at the Worrying Hour, which is some time between 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. It's the hour when you are suddenly and totally awake, eyes staring into the darkness, heart racing. At the Worrying Hour, all the things you worry about press insistently in on you without cease, and there's usually nothing for it but to get up and do something about as many of them as you can.
So this morning I did -- I planned my lessons for the day (which I should have already done anyway) on Paradise Lost and The Tempest, and I checked out prices on rental trucks, and I e-mailed my family to see who can help me move, and I e-mailed a potential subletter to try to set up a meeting, and I reduced the price on my Craigslist sublet. And I decided to restart my blog.
I know that I want to blog again, because I am afraid I'll lose touch badly with the people I love so much while I'm in England, which I will be for at least two years, and maybe more. I want to be able to at least have a one-sided conversation with the States (although I'll also be having as many two-sided ones via Skype, phone, and visits, as I can). So often in my life, sometimes through choice, but more often through negligence, I've lost touch with my past as soon as it passes. I don't want that to happen this time -- I don't want it to become past, but to stay present. And one way to do that is to keep communicating.
So here I am again. The Worrying Hour can be terrible, but also productive. I often get preoccupied with the details of things I need to do, but the larger picture is that I want to gather my friends and family around me close, pursue my career despite anxiety, and live with Nick and marry him and make a home, and this blog can, I think, help with all of those goals.
Countdowns, by the way: 20 days until the move; 256 days until the wedding. I can make it through the details if I keep the big picture in mind.
So this morning I did -- I planned my lessons for the day (which I should have already done anyway) on Paradise Lost and The Tempest, and I checked out prices on rental trucks, and I e-mailed my family to see who can help me move, and I e-mailed a potential subletter to try to set up a meeting, and I reduced the price on my Craigslist sublet. And I decided to restart my blog.
I know that I want to blog again, because I am afraid I'll lose touch badly with the people I love so much while I'm in England, which I will be for at least two years, and maybe more. I want to be able to at least have a one-sided conversation with the States (although I'll also be having as many two-sided ones via Skype, phone, and visits, as I can). So often in my life, sometimes through choice, but more often through negligence, I've lost touch with my past as soon as it passes. I don't want that to happen this time -- I don't want it to become past, but to stay present. And one way to do that is to keep communicating.
So here I am again. The Worrying Hour can be terrible, but also productive. I often get preoccupied with the details of things I need to do, but the larger picture is that I want to gather my friends and family around me close, pursue my career despite anxiety, and live with Nick and marry him and make a home, and this blog can, I think, help with all of those goals.
Countdowns, by the way: 20 days until the move; 256 days until the wedding. I can make it through the details if I keep the big picture in mind.
I'm impressed that you've managed to turn the Worrying Hour into something productive. I usually just toss and turn and feel resentful that Keegan is sleeping peacefully.