Thursday, August 11, 2011
As my leaving date draws near, more and more people (mostly at work) keep asking whether I'm excited/ready/scared/nervous/packed/etc. The answer to all of those questions has been to shrug my shoulders and say not really.. I've barely thought about it. Which is true - While I've never traveled for five months before, I've certainly done my fair share of various types of trips and so I've just been fairly unconcerned by it all. Experience has taught me that when it comes to travel, no matter what, I'll be able to find a place to sleep, and no matter what, shit will (mostly) be okay.
So I've been fairly unconcerned about the upcoming trip, to the point where towards the end of this week when the questioning has slowly reached a peak, I became mildly concerned about my lack of concern.
I had my last cello lesson and theory class this evening and at the end of the lesson, had to return to my teacher the cello I had borrowed, because I won't see her 'til the end of January. As the class drew to a close, I found myself gripping its neck like a child, growing more and more uneasy at the prospect of having to hand the instrument back. As the others gathered their things, I slowly put the cello in its case and took it back into the practice room to place it in a corner. I walked out and my cello teacher hugged me, making me promise to keep in touch, and promise to send her photos when I visit her native Vermont.
And I lost it. Bawling in front of my teacher and five semi-strangers. There's the pre-travel neurosis I know and love.