Notes from the Neurotic

It’s your favorite jet-setting blogger here, coming to you 'live' from South African Airways Flight 207. Actually, by the time I get to a computer and type this up I’ll be ‘live’ from Chicago, but I want you to feel as though you are here in the moment with me – cramped up in this narrow blue chair with a bottle of water tucked into the crevice between your hip and the metal armrest, a paper covered pillow tucked behind the small of your back, and a red polyester blanket draped over your lap while you breathe the recycled air and become more and more aware of the man sitting behind you with a constant cough.

So here we are - headed back to the States again. I won’t go on about how spoiled I feel and insist that I do recognize the indulgence of it all…okay I just did, but I won’t apologize for it. All I’m gonna say is that I’m excited to be going home.

Of course I’m not exactly going home, not yet anyway. We’re flying to Chicago first, then driving to my sister’s lake house in Wisconsin, then a few days in Louisville before our final weekend in Atlanta.

10 days.

It’s kind of a whirlwind, which perhaps explains why I’m slightly stressed. Although it will be fun, that kind of fast paced travel might be stressful for anyone, right? And yet I can’t help but feel that I have some sort of extra special stress gene that allows me to turn any situation into something to stress and/or obsess about.

I used to think stress was a result of being busy, but as we’ve established – I’m definitely not busy. Still, I tie myself up in knots over everything from what to pack to the American presidency.

Last night, for instance, I couldn’t sleep. Part of it was excitement, I’m sure, but it’s also this crazy stress that I manage to create for myself. To prove my point (though I may regret this), here is an all too revealing glimpse into last night's insomnia:

I’m going home! But does everyone back home think I’m pathetic for coming back so often? And does everyone here in Joburg think I’m spoiled for traveling so much? And why do I care so damn much about what people think? I’m going home! But have I packed right? Is it cold in Wisconsin? I’ll only be in Wisconsin for a weekend. Will that be enough time with my sister? And what about my mother? Will she have fun at the lake house? Oh, she’ll be fine, and I’ll get to spend some one-on-one time with her in Atlanta…but will I? I’m only in Atlanta for two days and there are a thousand people and things I want to see and do. I know - I’ll just invite everyone up to my mom’s for a BBQ so that I can see everyone at once…but what if no one comes? Or what if they all feel obligated to come but don’t really want to come because she lives so far away? Maybe I shouldn’t invite them at all. Oh, for the love! Only I could turn a backyard BBQ into a panic attack! What’s wrong with me? And what’s wrong with the Middle East? And who will be the next president? And who will be the next American Idol?
I need water. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Oh God, was that the bottle that I left in my car all day? Because I read somewhere that hot plastic water bottles gave Sheryl Crow breast cancer. Damnit. I wonder how Mrs. T is doing. I should say a prayer for Mrs. T. (Pause for brief prayer.) I wonder if it’s bad that my prayers always seem to be asking for something. Does that mean I’m selfish? Well, I must be selfish, otherwise my mind wouldn’t be wandering to the fact that I had ice cream after dinner tonight and should therefore really go running before my flight tomorrow. Then again, tonight’s ice cream is probably the least of my worries; I doubt I’ll be able to fit into those cute new jeans I packed after ten days of eating all my favorite American foods. And what else did I pack? Did I pack enough? Is it cold in Wisconsin? And wait! I haven’t written anything for my blog to let people know I’ll be out of action this week…but maybe I shouldn’t take the week off anyway. Maybe I can put something together on the plane. Yes, that’s what I'll do. I’ll write something on the plane…

And there we have it.

More notes from the neurotic upon my return…