No matter how many times I do some things, I still get pretty terrified. Case in point, I’ve told a number of stories over the years in front of a wide variety of audiences. Usually, there is a low grade anxiety when it comes to any of these presentations, but it especially ramps up when I’m talking about something that is personal or which I have a very specific point that I want to leave with the audience.
This past weekend at our latest Stories We Don’t Tell brought a deeper sense of anxiety then most. It was not only about something important to me, but the larger concept behind it was something I felt I needed to get right.
Lately, I’ve been waking up early. Marc Maron has said a few times on his podcast that he thinks you start waking up earlier as you get older because it’s God’s (or whomever) way of letting you know that you should be up for more hours in the day. Time is getting short and you need to be awake for this shit.
Before the holidays, I was on a business trip and waited in a large room before heading into customs. My flight was one of the first to take off in the early morning and customs was not yet open. It was merely a matter of minutes before the floodgates opened and we could continue on our journey, when, to my left, those dreaded words every single traveling person dreads to hear:
I believe, for reasons based on experience, that we are always three degrees away from an outbreak of chaos.
Arriving home from the airport after a long day of travel, I went to unlock my apartment door when I glanced across the hall. There was police tape across the lock and door handle. I looked around the empty hallway, but nothing else seemed out of place.
