Wednesday, April the 23rd, 2008

I’ve lived in various parts of the world and travelled to numerous others. Ever since just coming here to study, I’ve been to over a third of the states in this union. But never have I been nervous about an actual trip. Even when I’ve hopped onto planes to give talks to hostile audiences hundreds strong, I’ve never been fazed—I just let my oversize ego help me plough right through.

But this time, it was different.

I was petrified before I left home, wanting instead to just curl up in my room. I kept asking myself how I’d managed to get myself into this mess as I was heading to the airport. I was so nervous, I actually managed to screw up my check-in process at the automated counter (three times!). All the while, even now as I sit in this plane, I’m just looking for a chance to retreat and head home.

What if I suck? What if I don’t learn anything? What if I crash and burn as I stammer repeatedly in front of a model-type? What if everyone else at the studio is super-professional, and I’m laughed off has a hack?

So many doubts; I just hope I’m strong enough to follow this through.

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