Raw nerves and the jump into the unknown.Beijing, Summer 2012
As I sit in my old bedroom at my parents house, the magnitude of my rapidly approaching study abroad program in China has finally dawned on me. The realization that the few hours I spent with my newborn nephew tonight was the first and last opportunity for me to see him, or my family, or my friends, for the next three months has left my nerves exposed. My shell of cavalierness is all but gone: tonight I sit inexorably excited and nervous. I have spent the past month in near complete control of my emotions, ready, and noticing only that I had increasingly found myself fantasizing about the possibility of forthcoming adventures in China. However, those hazy fairytales have been hijacked by clearer images of me boarding the plane. This fixation on my departure feels all at once anticlimactic and intense. In two words, a whirlwind. It is a dull trepidation, similar to how I feel just before jumping into a body of water from a high bridge. As I stand on the railing, I think of all the unknowns possibilities and I cannot help but be simultaneously excited and nervous. Yet the moment passes with the rush of the cold water in an instant, inevitably leaving me to unceremoniously reevaluate why I had felt that way at all. Ultimately, I am confident that I have crossed enough t's and dotted enough i's to survive my summer in Beijing but secretly wonder about the unknowns.
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