Peter Gabriel's Big Time was playing on the radio. Which always bums me out because I want it to be Sledgehammer. I have nothing against Big Time. The end is funny. It's just that it's not Sledgehammer. And that's the problem with expectations. You ruin a perfectly good now by wishing it was something else.
I am far from mastering the whole having no expectations things. I haven't figured out how to stop having them, though I am getting better at letting them go. So when you're living in the land of layers and then suddenly you have to pack to go somewhere tropical and you look in the mirror and instantly regret every cookie you've ever eaten, you have to be all Brain, you better check yo'self before you wreck yo'self. You have to let go of any expectations of ever being tan. (Well, you probably don't. The sun probably doesn't have a vendetta against your skin. But I have a better chance of winning the lottery than I ever do of being tan. Which is to say, it's beyond hopeless). You have to let go of the expectations that you have to be this perfect traveler who never over-packs and yet always has cute outfits and never gets jetlagged and certainly never has unkind thoughts about screaming babies on planes.
Because if life gives you the opportunity to simultaneously travel backwards in timezones and towards the person who could be your future, don't worry that you're not ready, that you're not good enough at any of the things yet, that you're going to a faraway place with new people that may not like you and may sunburn you. Just get on the plane.
Lyric of the moment: "All the stars up in the sky, and the leaves in the trees. All the broken bits that make you jump up, and grassy bits in between. All the matter in the world is how much I like you..."
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