Like riding a mechanical bull in the middle of a sea of tacks
...the ride is fun, but it's gonna end sometime.
So one of my last safety nets turned to dust in my hands today, and I feel very exposed. It's not going to be as easy as it was - and lord knows, it's never been that easy.
That, and I've been sick since New Years' - this cough isn't going away, and I certainly don't have the luxury of sleeping until my white blood cells catch up to me. And hey, white blood cells - where are you guys, anyway? Can you wake up my lymphatic system on your way over? I hardly even have the energy to read.
I'm bouyed through this roughish patch by the promise of great things around the bend - Joshua Tree rescheduled for early February (and this time with even more good folks coming along - some that I haven't seen in years, that I've quite missed), San Francisco for a nice, long weekend in February or March, Spain in the summer (mmm, Menorca), and - a long way off, yet, but still pulling me forward - Cambodia in the late year.
I've been thinking about what's happened to me this past year - why there's so much in me that's new; why I now feel in all honesty what I had to fake before. Why I'm braver; more willing to take myself at face value and go after what enriches me, unafraid. And then, the other night, I was reminded that I have an anniversary coming up. And it all started to make sense.
Y'know what? You made me better. I owe you (and the near-ludicrous mismanagement of America West) a lot for that.
Okay, I give up. With my darling lizardboy three sheets to the wind on NyQuil in the other room and a heaping helping of pre-shoot-day jitters, I'm going to have to find some way to relax. And fast - my call time is 6:30am.
In other news - hey, wasn't I talking to somebody about this fairly recently?