Approximately 216 Hours Until Lift Off...

In 192 hours, on May 1st, 2005, I'm 25 years old. That's water under the bridge. I know that shit's happening whether I want it to or not, and I'm determined to age gracefully. We all know that once you hit 40, age starts to go backwards. (Sure it does, Linds.) The bonus of turning 25 is that I had to renew my Identification. (FINALLY! God I hated that picture of me!) In 216 hours (give or take) I'm on a plane, with a brief stopover in Salt Lake City, Utah. Then to my final destination; Dallas Ft. Worth International. For my ever so long stay of four days, of which I'm torn between grumbling over, since I'd like to stay a little longer (I'm greedy, okay?) and thinking it's a mixed blessing since I know he won't get tired of me quickly. (These are my own neuroses, get your own!) and peaking his curiosity. He knows me fairly well though.

To say I'm nervous is an understatement. This is a little over two years worth of waiting to meet someone that I feel like I've known for my entire life and that I have a huge amount of things in common with. (And a huge amount of things NOT in common with...)

Am I going into it with expectations? Hrm... Well, sort of? I can't say no, because I would be lying.

Am I expecting it to be a fantastic union of souls, where I find someone that I've been longing for, for ages, and the moment our lips meet, we'll be inseparable? Perhaps, but it's nowhere near a definite, and highly unlikely. I know how annoying I can be, when I annoy myself.

Am I terrified that the person he sees isn't going to be the person he wants? Hell Yes.

Is that an unjustifiable fear that I have because I'm (more than) a little neurotic? Yessireebob.

Do I doubt myself ad infinitum, when I should just be confident, and relaxed? Uhuh.

And can I help it? Nope, not really.