An Airport Moment

Oh, man.

Grad school is… … … … tough.

Tougher than I even knew to think of. More work, a different focus, and seemingly underpinned by theories and philosophies and methodology I know seemingly nothing about.

I mean, I’ll get there. It will be ok. My professor said so. My own brain said so. My mom said so.

But in the meantime, I have pretty much given up on any kind of life from now until mid-December. Geeze.

Some other time, I want to talk about the shift that I’ve noticed and how I’m a much more linear, literal thinker than I thought. But I can’t handle any more thinking tonight. I need simply to focus on getting through my airport moment.

{cue dream-sequence squiggly lines, soft-focus lens, and harp glissandi}

Once upon a time – nearly eight years ago! – I set out on a little adventure to Florence and Paris. I was going with my closest school friends, and it was a much-needed break from the drudgery of on-campus college. The previous semester had nearly done me in. I was, I believe, on the verge of breakdown. But it seemed that Paris would change all of that.

Still, one of my most vivid memories of that trip is from the very beginning during a layover at Charles de Gaulle airport. In one sense, we’d arrived. The eight-hour plane ride was over, we were across the pond, and European adventure stretched in front of us for as far as we could see. But somehow, sitting in a tiny, cement and metal gate area, waiting for our small plane to Florence, I felt the panic set in. I was thousands of miles — but only mere hours — from home, and I remember having a conversation with myself in my head:

Would you like to go back home right now? Yes.

Would you give just about anything to jump back on that plane and wake up in Omaha tomorrow? Yes.

Should we call the whole thing off? Yes.

There was so much good coming my way — so many life-changing (cheesy but true!) moments, experiences, tastes, sights, and sounds.

Italian Flag Lasagna Feast

Italian Flag Lasagna Feast!

Pastry at Dolcissimo!

Tarte flambée!

But in the early afternoon, in that separated and almost subterranean gate area, I couldn’t think of anything except how much I wanted to just wake up in my own bed.

 

It occurred to me tonight that I’m in the ugly gate area of this next big thing in my life. I’m terrified. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed, questioning every thought, and just a little bit wish that I could wake up tomorrow and suddenly have no academic commitments whatsoever. But I know this will pass. I’ll figure it out. And in the end, I think it will be pretty terrific. I just have to get out of the airport.

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About LE

PR professional by day, writer by night. Remembering life isn't an episode of "Saved By the Bell." Getting culture, not babies.

2 responses to “An Airport Moment

  1. Pingback: Leaving the Airport « Redhead. Reader. Writer. Baker.

  2. cameronarch

    You got this. No doubt. Great blog!

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