B called me at 4 am just to give me the lastest information, and some carefully placed "head-up"-hints. As she has known me for several years, she knows of my "tendency" to worry. In fact, it is not even a tendency, it is whole new character: The Woody Allen.
My worrying streches the whole abyss from "will he call me?" to "will I be seated next to a man with horrible peridontitis who insists on yawning and burping all the way from Singapore to Europe, forcing me to breathe through a glass of orange juice for 12 hours?" ´
I don't like uncertainty. Most of the time I reside somewhere in the limbo-land between dwelling on past nostalgia and trying to predict the future. If I had a crystal ball it would be in need of constant repair. I rarely live "now", seize the day and all that malarkey. The fear of the unknown just gives me too much anxiety.
So even now that I have been warned that people in India tend to stare a lot, even more than you expect them to do, I know I'll walk around worrying that someone has drawn a penis on my forehead.
Ah, The Woody...Is that what the opposite of Carpe Diem is? I seem to suffer from it as well, but decided it is a fantastic survival mechanism, since every time I ignore it I get a turnip up my nostril, or something as equally fun...We should travel together, we'll get matching umbrellas. :D
ReplyDeleteWell, why do you think I'm so extremely organized?! I'm trying to cover for every possible disaster! And that is also why I have a nervous breakdown everytime something is out of my control. I think we would be great travelling together, we could share anti-ulcer medications, umbrellas and shoes.
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