And a partridge in a pear tree.
Where do I begin?
I knew this summer was going to be busy. The structure of my degree program has made that very clear until I have that diploma in hand. My summers are spoken for, even before you add (in no particular order, at all) a job that pays the bills, a still-budding career, family & friends commitments, sacrament season that occurs just before summer, and that eating and sleeping thing.
I knew in January the calendar year was full, so full that my commitment fearing- self, sat down and wrote out a calendar. I filled in what I could and left a list of “items needing to be dated” in another column.
The Catholic New Media Conference (or Celebration) was at the top of that second list. I had such a good time during the last one (essentially being baptized by fire) that I knew I had to go to the next one. I just needed a location and date.
I prayed like hell that it wouldn’t fall around my proposed course schedule, or worse, right in the middle of it.
It ended up being the Sunday before classes started. Did I really want to spend a full day learning and socializing and then go directly to class first thing the next morning? Not really, bordering on “no.” But I checked the proposed summer courses schedule again and found a slim chance to make all of this work.
Not wanting to do anything stupid, unintentionally, I emailed my academic advisor for the “OK.”
I would go to CNMC and then head to campus to fulfil my “in residence” requirement for the year.
But that left a few free days; which left me wondering what I should do with them, going home for a few days didn’t make much sense and as much as I would’ve liked to stay in Atlanta, it just wasn’t in the cards.
So I headed to my dad’s for a few days since it’s so much easier to get a direct flight from Atlanta to my dad’s than it is to get to my dad’s from the closest major airport to my home. Ironically I’d have to fly to Atlanta and then change planes to get to my dad’s.
The plan was for the rest of my books to be delivered to his house to avoid any hiccups in the delivery. The rest of the plan was to do copious amounts of reading to get ahead of myself and hopefully avoid a few late nights. I’m happy to say that plan half worked, because every other time I’m made a similar plan I’ve blown the plan to bits in the worst possible ways.
During preparation for all this travel I happened to mention that I wished I could go to the Abilities Expo this year since the dates fell just so and I would be in the area. Suddenly I wasn’t going to be traveling to Chicago alone anymore, much to the delight of my already overloaded suitcase.
As my initial departure date got closer I realized how insane this whole plan was. I’d be away from home for three whole weeks, for one thing. I’d basically be embarking on a mini national tour for another. There were so many details that I didn’t think about initially that kept driving me to fits of panic.
What if I can’t repack all of my stuff?
What if I get sick?
I’m probably not going to have time to go swimming for 3 weeks.
What if I get a flat tire?
I’m going to be sleeping without my pillow.
The last three items on this very short list were the most concerning.
I was adamant that I was going to be “carry-on only” but I let that one go fairly early & quickly once I started packing like I was preparing for the apocalypse in addition to needing to pack books (not kidding).
In the end I had to break the trip into sections ad pack according to those sections. But it all boiled down to “just manage to get to Chicago with as little trouble as possible,” and it worked, mostly.
Now that I’m back home (and back to reality) there’s decompressing to do, papers to write, items to respond to, among so many other things.
Too much travel is more disorientating than I bargained for. Now I know why celebs appear to be so high maintenance.