It is the night before I leave for my grand, trans-Atlantic adventure and I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep in the way that one can’t sleep when they are very young and worry that a horrid, stinking monster will eat them as soon as they doze off. I can’t sleep in the way that one can’t sleep the night before a big competition. I can’t sleep in the way that I used to not fall asleep the day before school begins.
I can’t sleep.
This is the first entry I’ve written in several months. In those months I have taken giant steps toward finishing my undergraduate degree, learned to knit, made new friends, gotten back in touch with old friends, and plotted out my final semester of school. Of the many events, trials, and encounters, the most exciting thing has been planning for my semester abroad in Limerick, Ireland.
And I can’t sleep.
I can’t sleep in the “Oh dear God, what have I done?” kind of way. I can’t sleep in the sense that my mind won’t stop whirring like a hand mixer, churning up worry, fear, excitement, curiosity, and a pinch of self-loathing to flavor the filling for my Humble Pie. I plan to bite off more than I can chew.
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