jakorte's blog

Two pre-thoughts. When you read my intros, they are usually a week or two behind my reality. I will be in the air on my way to Ireland as you read this, and I'm very very happy to be going! I am going to attempt to send next week's newsletter to you from Ireland - I'm hoping to be able to. In four years, I've never missed sending a newsletter yet...

Post 9/11, pre-flight: as I mentioned last week, I’ve got a few things to be really happy about right now.

At least I’m trying to be happy; I should be happy. But when you’re doing monumental things alone, it’s sort of sad. I cry a lot. I cry easily. I have a toothache that I know will take the last chewing surface I have left. I can’t stand to lose that right now. I can’t to lose my composure either. I’ve pretty much aced the act. I exercise that sort of methodical skill a lot, to quell others’ fears. I can see who they want me to be. I can see who I want to be, and I read it to myself, silently, over and over. Like the best part of a book, it’s the one line that stands out and makes you understand, finally, what it’s really about.

“But Lou Anne, she understood the point of the book before she even read it. The one who was missing the point this time was me.” Kathryn Stockett, The Help.

I must still be missing the point. If anybody could tell me what it is, I’d really like to know. What is the point of crossing Ireland off my bucket list? Because right now, I’m just second guessing my sanity. Really? I’ve signed up to do this alone? What was I thinking? What will I dream about after this? Where will I find another star to follow? How am I going to make it through without tears? How am I going to explain them to colleagues and strangers if they show up despite my determination not to be sad about not sharing the experience immediately with a flesh-and-blood someone to my left or right?

I don’t know how this is going to play out.
But, I’ve stocked up on notebooks, and fast writing pens.