All my bags are packed...

How is it I have flown close to 70 times and yet part of me is still afraid? How many times have I heard that driving a car is far more dangerous than flying and yet I still spend more time in my car than my home? Why do I have this burning need to make things right between someone I fought with before I get on the plane as if the cruel words we said to each other are all that will be left out there in the cosmos if I die on Wednesday? I'm not going to die, so there is no need to say goodbye, right?

My packing list for this trip amuses me. The list of electronics and paraphernalia takes up the entire length of a notebook page; my clothes take up 5 lines. And why is it that I have spent all night backing up my computers before I even contemplated washing clothes and packing them. I really do think I am part borg. And perhaps this is part of my problem with he who I wish to say goodbye to. Perhaps my completely connected lifestyle isn't the norm. Perhaps he doesn't respond because unlike me he is bound to other things. Or perhaps he is just a jerk. yeah.

I think Aggie suspects something is up. Ever since I brought the suitcase in he has been sulking and biting my feet.

On a much happier note while on my trip I am going to meet some amazing women. They are my friends in the Twilight world I seem to spend too much time in. These are women who I admire, who make me laugh, are smart and interesting and talented. I am excited beyond belief to meet them all.