What is it about looking forward to something that makes you so happy? The satisfying distraction from the present. The excitement of the unknown. The possibilities of the future. The idea that it really can get better than this.
I wouldn't know.
I have this problem- although most people would call it a gift- where I"m stuck in the present. I can't look forward to anything. To me, it doesn't get better than this. The Now. Thinking about what's next has always stressed me out to the point where I am crying myself to sleep or snapping back at the people around me (often the ones trying to help me) or even skipping meals. I think, if I'm focusing on tomorrow, why bother with today? And then today is shot to hell.
It's frustrating when things need to get done/something big is happening/I'm going to art school in Italy for a semester in less than a month. I should be skipping around the house at just the sight of those words at this point, but here I am sitting on my couch with my mind on this bagel I just put in the toaster and whether I'm going to want cream cheese or butter. One on each? Jelly? C's texting me. My bunny is licking my ankle.
It's like I can't find a balance. This is a nice trait when I'm say, babysitting or out to dinner, doing something I can be fully engaged in something in which I'm supposed to be fully engaged. But it gets complicated when things slow down, lists start to formulate, logistics start to matter and what's supposed to happen 3 weeks from now is more important that what's happening right now.
I don't know how to pack my charcoals in a suitcase. They're all going to crumble. Where do I put my turpentine? What if my brushes get messed up in my suitcase? Do I bring a bathing suit? I want to wear my bathing suit today. Email your adviser. You have to eat every day, make sure you set aside money to pay for food. What if I spend all my money on dresses in Milan? Why isn't that bad?
Why aren't any of these questions running through my head? I'm leaving in 3 weeks. The only thing I care that's in my suitcase are my paints and some Advil. My mom is asking me questions. I don't know the answers. My adviser is asking if I have questions. I don't. Will it work out in the end? Hopefully. Probably not. Doesn't it always?
I'm going to help my best friend move in to her new place at her beach school now. She started packing last night.
