My brain is scattered. My skin is going crazy. My knee still looks like I regularly participate in street fights and do hood rat stuff with my friends.
I have two more days to prepare for the biggest blogging conference and also the Birds of a Feather room for humor bloggers I’m hosting during the conference. I’m nervous because of how long I’ve waited to attend, how important this is to me, and oh my dear I’m supposed to be funny on the spot? It’s like when I tell people about stand up comedy and they go, “Oh tell me something funny,” like the question alone will transform this aisle of the grocery store into a dark club and instead of Dora the Explorer band-aids behind me, there’s a brick wall and in front, a microphone and a huge bright light shining on me.
And I don’t even know where I’m going with this other than I’m full of nerves. Nerves make me hungry and scatterbrained and buy stupid dresses that do nothing for my body other than being able to double as a paisley tent. It’s 2 AM now and I want to pack, but I can’t without waking up the little humans who would look at me and want to join in and instead of helping me assess which shoes to wear, they will hang on my legs like Lilliputians attacking Gulliver.
Even with the nerves and panic and fretting, I can’t wait for the hours to pass and for me to justify my behavior with, “I’m on vacation, I’ll do what I want!”