Standing in the parking lot of Sam's the other night, I saw a man, probably my dad's age, run full speed while pushing an empty cart. He then jumped onto the cart and rode it until he ran out of steam, then repeated the process. I also saw a bright orange monster truck with suicide doors, but that's for another post.
I've seen my own father ride the shopping cart through parking lots, and I've done it myself, although not since high school. Seeing an older person engage in what seems to be a childish diversion got me to thinking: Now that the world appears to be breaking down, now that everything we've accumulated as a nation or as an individual may soon be worthless, isn't it time to just chuck it and have fun?
The Bible says to occupy while we're on Earth - I've often taken that to mean we're not supposed to take anything too seriously or get too wrapped up in our Earthly lives and what they offer. However, I went to a wedding this weekend where the pastor instructed the new couple to live life, enjoy life. This seems to be an issue of balance. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, but don't put them in a place they don't belong, like before God.
God didn't put us here to be miserable, we have a purpose and we also have access to joy and peace that surpasses all understanding. God is in control. We are not. That's where I live. In fact, booking the trip to Paris was ultimately a control issue for me. And, I know if I had given into that urge and need to be in control, I would be unhappy for not going, and it would be a giant step toward leading a life full of worry and missed chances.
I seem to be writing about the trip a lot, but naturally I'm excited, and it being such short notice, I am spending the majority of my free time planning and preparing. I am not allowing myself to stake out a minute-by-minute itinerary, but I am planning some things, like which neighborhood I would like to visit each day. I'm trying to allow myself time to wander, which is what Paris is for. It's going to be good for me.
It's amazing to me, and once more, evidence that I serve an awesome God, that a still small voice keeps reassuring me when I have doubts about my travel plans. (Incidentally, these pesky doubts are coming fewer and farther between.) I was reminded the other day that Jesus was a traveler, that France is still a part of God's world, and that ultimately, I need to find a way to be strong on my own, with God as my only companion. This seems to be taking on a pretty serious tone for a brief spring vacation, but nonetheless, it's where I'm at and this is my blog. . .
The more serious and sinister the world we live in seems to get, the more important it is to just run as fast as we can and jump on. If you get the chance to run and jump again...take it. And, that's what I plan to do. I will carry on with my responsibilities, and I will live my life the way I'm supposed to because that's my insurance, but when and if it all comes tumbling down around me, I plan to be cool as a cucumber. The trick is being ready to park the cart when the time comes.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Breaking News
I got two e-mail acknowledgements from the agent. So, it would seem they received ALL three of my submissions. L. . .O. . .L
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
On making decisions
We've spoken about this before, so it should come as no surprise that I'm not so good with the decisions. This truth prompted my family to purchase a "decision maker" for me at Christmas. It is a wooden platform embedded with magnets. It has different answers written on the top and above it hangs a pendulum, also with a magnet. The pendulum swings wildly at first, but then slows down and frantically jitters between two answers before finally landing on one. The likeness to my own decision making process is uncanny.
I actually turned to it as I stared at a "continue with purchase" button on a travel-booking site Monday. It told me yes, and I proceeded. I am now officially spending Spring Break in Paris, France. Once I made the decision I felt nothing but relief. Although, I periodically go through buyer's remorse moments and fret about the stability of the world in general. France is God's world, too, and wherever I am, there is He also.
My plunge into international travel inspired me in other areas, and I finally got up the courage to submit my book query to an agent. Let me set up the scene. I've reviewed this agent's submission guidelines exhaustively, but I did it one more time last night. Their web site states that an immediate e-mail acknowledgment should follow your query submission. It instructs you to resubmit if you do not receive one. I did not get one, so I sent it again with a different subject line. Still no acknowledgement. I waited until this morning and sent it again from my work e-mail account. As of the drafting of this post, I have no acknowledgement in either inbox. However, after the third attempt, I read the agent's blog where she happened to have posted about the agency's query policy. She casually mentioned it sometimes takes a few days for the acknowledgement to appear. . . visualize me in a state of frenzied worry and panic. I strive for perfection when making Hamburger Helper. Doing something this important wrong is the stuff my nightmares are made of. . .!!!
So, one possible outcome of all this decision-making empowerment is, I just sent the same query to an agent (not just any agent, but the one I've been researching for six months) three times, that'll go over well, very professional. The other? I have been rejected by their e-mail system, not once, not twice, but three times from two different addresses. Only time will tell. In the meantime, anybody know a good agent?
I actually turned to it as I stared at a "continue with purchase" button on a travel-booking site Monday. It told me yes, and I proceeded. I am now officially spending Spring Break in Paris, France. Once I made the decision I felt nothing but relief. Although, I periodically go through buyer's remorse moments and fret about the stability of the world in general. France is God's world, too, and wherever I am, there is He also.
My plunge into international travel inspired me in other areas, and I finally got up the courage to submit my book query to an agent. Let me set up the scene. I've reviewed this agent's submission guidelines exhaustively, but I did it one more time last night. Their web site states that an immediate e-mail acknowledgment should follow your query submission. It instructs you to resubmit if you do not receive one. I did not get one, so I sent it again with a different subject line. Still no acknowledgement. I waited until this morning and sent it again from my work e-mail account. As of the drafting of this post, I have no acknowledgement in either inbox. However, after the third attempt, I read the agent's blog where she happened to have posted about the agency's query policy. She casually mentioned it sometimes takes a few days for the acknowledgement to appear. . . visualize me in a state of frenzied worry and panic. I strive for perfection when making Hamburger Helper. Doing something this important wrong is the stuff my nightmares are made of. . .!!!
So, one possible outcome of all this decision-making empowerment is, I just sent the same query to an agent (not just any agent, but the one I've been researching for six months) three times, that'll go over well, very professional. The other? I have been rejected by their e-mail system, not once, not twice, but three times from two different addresses. Only time will tell. In the meantime, anybody know a good agent?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
New habits are born easily
What foods did you hate and refuse to eat as a child? Mine were numerous: broccoli, spinach, tomatoes, onions, cottage cheese, sour cream, even mayonnaise. As an adult, all of these foods have become my favorites. I want spinach leaves on my sandwiches, tomatoes on my burgers, would jump through fire for crispy and delicious onion rings, love cottage cheese for breakfast, and you get the idea.
I found the same thing to be true with words. Certain parts of speech have meandered into my vocabulary quite suddenly. Like the word ‘foolish’. It’s not an uncommon or difficult word, but I never used it much (read: ever) as a child or teenager and now, it’s just poppin’ up everywhere. I’m sure this can be attributed to the fact that I am a WRITER and also an avid reader. Oh, and also, I grade approximately 300 pages a day (oh yes, I counted) in every core subject. There, that mystery is solved.
I cited these happenings in order to compare them to my life as a teacher. I now practice what my teachers preached. I embrace and enforce the rules I rejected and rebelled against. I subject my students to things that I hated my teachers for when I was growing up. And I went to public school. Within the private education setting, I know I have much more latitude when it comes to discipline (disclaimer: we do not practice corporal punishment). I am constantly telling students to tuck in shirts and change out of their P.E. shoes (part of our dress code). I daily assign detention for tardies and nail them for talking in class, failing to do homework, and a plethora of other things that I DID as a teenager.
The irony? I was much worse than any of them (I hope), and I’m quite afraid I will one day soon be blackmailed. I skipped class almost daily my senior year – all of my seniors, or senior wanabees, are quite motivated and dedicated to graduating on time, and therefore miss very little school. I don’t know much about my students’ “extracurricular activities” but none of the signs of alcohol or drug abuse/experimentation are there. It is a small school where my own sister attends. I know she isn’t involved in those things and she never alludes to any of her friends partaking, either. (Partaking, another one of those words.) However, as a high school student I spent my Fridays and Saturdays, and many weekdays, in places I had no business being, and as a result, I tend to be more suspicious of my students than is probably fair.
In closing, remember that one teacher you really didn’t like that was never, NEVER, sick? Mine was my senior chemistry teacher and she missed maybe one day the whole semester. I had a student the other day comment on how I am never out sick, and I’m not (and thank God because I don’t have insurance). Her words: “Ms. Rachel you’re never sick, you’re always here.” She didn’t mean it in an ugly way, she’s one of the students that can stand me. But what about the others? I ask this and chuckle to myself. That’s right, I come from very good stock and I will always be at work, ready to tell you to tuck your shirt, set your goals, stop talking at the computers, etc.
Some women turn into their mothers. I however, have turned into Mrs. Buckley, Room 318, Chemistry I.
I found the same thing to be true with words. Certain parts of speech have meandered into my vocabulary quite suddenly. Like the word ‘foolish’. It’s not an uncommon or difficult word, but I never used it much (read: ever) as a child or teenager and now, it’s just poppin’ up everywhere. I’m sure this can be attributed to the fact that I am a WRITER and also an avid reader. Oh, and also, I grade approximately 300 pages a day (oh yes, I counted) in every core subject. There, that mystery is solved.
I cited these happenings in order to compare them to my life as a teacher. I now practice what my teachers preached. I embrace and enforce the rules I rejected and rebelled against. I subject my students to things that I hated my teachers for when I was growing up. And I went to public school. Within the private education setting, I know I have much more latitude when it comes to discipline (disclaimer: we do not practice corporal punishment). I am constantly telling students to tuck in shirts and change out of their P.E. shoes (part of our dress code). I daily assign detention for tardies and nail them for talking in class, failing to do homework, and a plethora of other things that I DID as a teenager.
The irony? I was much worse than any of them (I hope), and I’m quite afraid I will one day soon be blackmailed. I skipped class almost daily my senior year – all of my seniors, or senior wanabees, are quite motivated and dedicated to graduating on time, and therefore miss very little school. I don’t know much about my students’ “extracurricular activities” but none of the signs of alcohol or drug abuse/experimentation are there. It is a small school where my own sister attends. I know she isn’t involved in those things and she never alludes to any of her friends partaking, either. (Partaking, another one of those words.) However, as a high school student I spent my Fridays and Saturdays, and many weekdays, in places I had no business being, and as a result, I tend to be more suspicious of my students than is probably fair.
In closing, remember that one teacher you really didn’t like that was never, NEVER, sick? Mine was my senior chemistry teacher and she missed maybe one day the whole semester. I had a student the other day comment on how I am never out sick, and I’m not (and thank God because I don’t have insurance). Her words: “Ms. Rachel you’re never sick, you’re always here.” She didn’t mean it in an ugly way, she’s one of the students that can stand me. But what about the others? I ask this and chuckle to myself. That’s right, I come from very good stock and I will always be at work, ready to tell you to tuck your shirt, set your goals, stop talking at the computers, etc.
Some women turn into their mothers. I however, have turned into Mrs. Buckley, Room 318, Chemistry I.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Characters
I have tried and tried to find a humorous topic to write on today. I’ve wracked my brain for a funny story from the past few days and nothing has surfaced, at least not one I wouldn’t be considered cruel for writing about. The topic I keep going back to is the people in my life, the ones I see every day. So, today will be character introduction, and some of it might be funny.
Let’s start at the top, at the beginning – my parents. My dad is amazing, a Vietnam veteran, the most honest and hardworking person I know. He is a fisherman, a metal detector, an expert on end time prophecy, and a right-wing, arms-bearing, conservative Christian REPUBLICAN. It is quite possible the Fed will arrive at our house one day soon, as my dad routinely invites them. Every time a story on Fox News gets his dander up, he stands in front of the television shouting his address and proposes a meeting in our front yard for later in the day. A duel of sorts. . .
My mom is perpetually 16. She plans her evenings around American Idol, is addicted to computer games, shops when she gets angry, and enjoys slamming doors and throwing things, mainly dishes and remotes. (I’d better not say anymore because she reads this blog daily.) Her good habits far outweigh her bad ones. She is one of the few people I know that will absolutely do anything for anybody. She has always put my sisters and me ahead of herself. I start thinking about things I know she’s given up in order for me to have, and I tear up.
On to the truly entertaining one. Rebekah. There are a few previous posts that will shed light on the history of our relationship. Lately, we’ve become buddies. She’s matured and I’ve learned to pick my battles. We “hang out” and sometimes have dance parties – just the two of us. We also share an affinity for trashy scary movies. I saw her through her first boyfriend-related tragedy about a month ago. As an individual, she is so much stronger than I ever was, and I am so grateful. She is not the least bit afraid to show her values. She is uninfluenced by others and their perception of “cool.” I respect her for that so much. A good anecdote to illustrate her less-practical side involves a sweatshirt. She picked out said sweatshirt and came up short, so I pitched in. It was expensive. When mom exclaimed, "You spent $___ on a sweatshirt!" Rebekah's response was, "Well. . .it's reversible."
There are several other noteworthy characters to talk about, including all of my students. However, I have a basketball game to get to, so we’ll have to discuss them later.
Let’s start at the top, at the beginning – my parents. My dad is amazing, a Vietnam veteran, the most honest and hardworking person I know. He is a fisherman, a metal detector, an expert on end time prophecy, and a right-wing, arms-bearing, conservative Christian REPUBLICAN. It is quite possible the Fed will arrive at our house one day soon, as my dad routinely invites them. Every time a story on Fox News gets his dander up, he stands in front of the television shouting his address and proposes a meeting in our front yard for later in the day. A duel of sorts. . .
My mom is perpetually 16. She plans her evenings around American Idol, is addicted to computer games, shops when she gets angry, and enjoys slamming doors and throwing things, mainly dishes and remotes. (I’d better not say anymore because she reads this blog daily.) Her good habits far outweigh her bad ones. She is one of the few people I know that will absolutely do anything for anybody. She has always put my sisters and me ahead of herself. I start thinking about things I know she’s given up in order for me to have, and I tear up.
On to the truly entertaining one. Rebekah. There are a few previous posts that will shed light on the history of our relationship. Lately, we’ve become buddies. She’s matured and I’ve learned to pick my battles. We “hang out” and sometimes have dance parties – just the two of us. We also share an affinity for trashy scary movies. I saw her through her first boyfriend-related tragedy about a month ago. As an individual, she is so much stronger than I ever was, and I am so grateful. She is not the least bit afraid to show her values. She is uninfluenced by others and their perception of “cool.” I respect her for that so much. A good anecdote to illustrate her less-practical side involves a sweatshirt. She picked out said sweatshirt and came up short, so I pitched in. It was expensive. When mom exclaimed, "You spent $___ on a sweatshirt!" Rebekah's response was, "Well. . .it's reversible."
There are several other noteworthy characters to talk about, including all of my students. However, I have a basketball game to get to, so we’ll have to discuss them later.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Job Description
Today, I spent 25 minutes in Game Stop. Prior to today, I’m not sure I’ve spent 25 seconds in any kind of video game store. Our school has an academic and good behavior incentive program called A-Privilege. Good grades and no serious disciplinary issues for a two-month period will earn a student two months of “privilege.” The two months is topped off with a day away from school, on which we treat our students to lunch and an outing. Sometimes it’s bowling or miniature golf; today it was a day at the mall in Tyler, and consequently, Game Stop.
I wound up in Game Stop because of one very special student. Seeing him every day reminds me why I do what I do for a third of the salary I am “eligible” for given my education and background. This student was enrolled at the academy the year I began working there again. He was completely beaten down by his peers from public school, to the point that just about anything would drive him to tears. Self esteem was non-existent and his brilliance and bright personality were dull and unnoticeable. At first, he was withdrawn and shy, untrusting, but after time he blossomed. By the end of the year he was friends with everyone and he returned this year with a smile on his face, full of summer stories, which he excitedly shared with fellow students, teachers, and anyone else that he could find. He is proof that God can heal anyone, that a loving, Christian environment IS the answer.
When this student found out I would be accompanying them on their outing today in place of the pastor, he asked if I would be in his group. Students his age are not required to have a chaperone, but he wanted me with him, so I agreed. We arrived at the mall and he ran ahead with his friends (friends in plural, something he didn’t have a short time ago), but when I came through the entrance he was waiting.
“Ms. Rachel, let’s form our group.”
So away we went…to Game Stop. The jargon amazed me. I stood by and watched as he knowingly traded games and asked about new games, specific versions, upcoming release dates, and the methods of downloading cheat codes. He moved with confidence, secure in his right to be himself. That’s how he behaves in the classroom, too. His personality is wonderful – he’s a little different, but so was John the Baptist. It is a blessing to me every time I see one of our older boys, one with a souped up pick-up or a starting spot on our basketball team, walk by this student and acknowledge him and show him kindness. That’s just the way it is at Calvary Way. My students are wonderful. They didn’t all start out that way, but they are educated in a place where the presence of God dwells, and where prayer goes on almost constantly.
This student is not our only success story. We have many. Some have come from broken and abusive homes, others deny God and His existence daily. Whatever their issues when they come, we always see improvement, maybe not as much as we want as humans, but some. When I think of it spiritually I know that the seed has been planted, the change may not come in my lifetime, but the work has been started and God will give the increase.
As I write this, the after school group is sitting outside my office singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” They’ve been in public school all day, an institution that has unabashedly turned its back on God. They have removed every trace of Him from what they teach. But God finds a way, and those same students come here in the afternoon and willingly, excitedly, and openly glorify God. Not because it is required, but because they want to, because their simple heartfelt praise makes them feel good.
I may never publish a book or travel the world, or even have anybody but family and a few close friends read this blog. But I’m in God’s will. When I wake up in the morning and come to work, I am helping a young person find their way. Many of them have experienced and endured things I’ve never dreamt of, and only one person can help them overcome the obstacles life has cruelly thrown in their path. It's my job to make sure they get introduced.
I wound up in Game Stop because of one very special student. Seeing him every day reminds me why I do what I do for a third of the salary I am “eligible” for given my education and background. This student was enrolled at the academy the year I began working there again. He was completely beaten down by his peers from public school, to the point that just about anything would drive him to tears. Self esteem was non-existent and his brilliance and bright personality were dull and unnoticeable. At first, he was withdrawn and shy, untrusting, but after time he blossomed. By the end of the year he was friends with everyone and he returned this year with a smile on his face, full of summer stories, which he excitedly shared with fellow students, teachers, and anyone else that he could find. He is proof that God can heal anyone, that a loving, Christian environment IS the answer.
When this student found out I would be accompanying them on their outing today in place of the pastor, he asked if I would be in his group. Students his age are not required to have a chaperone, but he wanted me with him, so I agreed. We arrived at the mall and he ran ahead with his friends (friends in plural, something he didn’t have a short time ago), but when I came through the entrance he was waiting.
“Ms. Rachel, let’s form our group.”
So away we went…to Game Stop. The jargon amazed me. I stood by and watched as he knowingly traded games and asked about new games, specific versions, upcoming release dates, and the methods of downloading cheat codes. He moved with confidence, secure in his right to be himself. That’s how he behaves in the classroom, too. His personality is wonderful – he’s a little different, but so was John the Baptist. It is a blessing to me every time I see one of our older boys, one with a souped up pick-up or a starting spot on our basketball team, walk by this student and acknowledge him and show him kindness. That’s just the way it is at Calvary Way. My students are wonderful. They didn’t all start out that way, but they are educated in a place where the presence of God dwells, and where prayer goes on almost constantly.
This student is not our only success story. We have many. Some have come from broken and abusive homes, others deny God and His existence daily. Whatever their issues when they come, we always see improvement, maybe not as much as we want as humans, but some. When I think of it spiritually I know that the seed has been planted, the change may not come in my lifetime, but the work has been started and God will give the increase.
As I write this, the after school group is sitting outside my office singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” They’ve been in public school all day, an institution that has unabashedly turned its back on God. They have removed every trace of Him from what they teach. But God finds a way, and those same students come here in the afternoon and willingly, excitedly, and openly glorify God. Not because it is required, but because they want to, because their simple heartfelt praise makes them feel good.
I may never publish a book or travel the world, or even have anybody but family and a few close friends read this blog. But I’m in God’s will. When I wake up in the morning and come to work, I am helping a young person find their way. Many of them have experienced and endured things I’ve never dreamt of, and only one person can help them overcome the obstacles life has cruelly thrown in their path. It's my job to make sure they get introduced.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Paris...in the Spring?
Spring Break is fast approaching and I promised myself a vacation before Christmas. I haven't booked one yet - probably my sub-conscious (and conscience) at work. However, the reason I'm actually going to cite is the Last-Minute Deal. Europe is on my list. I cancelled a trip to Spain and France this past fall for financial and a host of other reasons. Although, I think the chief one was fear. The minute it was cancelled I burst into tears and immediately started cooking up plans to get across the Atlantic all over again.
Back to the Last-Minute Deal - they're cheaper, and, for someone like me, who analyzes everything down the bone, who can over think which oatmeal flavor to eat for breakfast, and can worry to the point of physical illness, it's a good spur-of-the-moment decision making tool. Last time, I had seven months to talk myself out of the trip - this time I'll have about three weeks before departure.
Paris seems to be the lucky lady. I feel as though I have to get Paris out of the way before I can truly enjoy any other destination. And, if I only make it to Europe one time, Paris is the place I want to see more than any other.
Now, I have one week before my planned departure date is up for booking and I am nervous wreck. So far today I've felt pretty good about going, but I have moments where I panic. Here are some of the reasons:
Money. This trip will eat into my savings. I don't have a lot of money put back, but at least I have some. This trip won't take all of it, but all the same, I'm a freelance writer and a small private school administrator, I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. What if I need a filling? Ahhhh...see...there's the Type A. Good old "what if?" Be gone!
The book. Always the book. I tell myself I should take the time off and park in front of the computer. Well, I can tell you right now that won't work because if I'm at home I'm going to watch Seinfeld and do other worthless things (I am so NOT calling Seinfeld worthless). Additionally, I will get sucked into other tasks and I'll have people around who will distract me. Plus, I won't unwind, I need to disconnect. My mother (very wisely) suggested I use the trip as a reward - get the book ready and submitted to an agent before you go. In other words, the trip date will be my deadline. Note: I'm not taking my laptop to the other side of the world...I'm just not.
Traveling alone. I will be all by my lonesome. First trip overseas, alone. Is it a good idea? Paris is a well-developed city and I am a smart person. I've visited large American cities and have been able to navigate very well thanks to a little pre-departure research (I must exclude New York from this example - that was five days of perpetual lostness). But, Paris - I don't speak the language and I hear the French are less than helpful when it comes to poor, lost American tourists. Still, I will know my hotel address, will study maps and the metro system, will plan well, and if all else fails, I will bite the bullet and take a cab. I do like the idea of doing this completely alone. It reaffirms my independence and I won't have anyone to please and entertain but myself. So, I can stand in one spot along the Seine for an hour if I want to. I am a people pleaser and I usually put what I want aside to keep everyone else calm and happy, especially on trips.
Homesick. Yes, I do get homesick, although it usually only happens when things don't go well, or when I don't have a home base. A hotel is a home base, it's the place I belong. However, if French people are mean to me if and when I ask them for directions, I could get to missing home and second-guessing my decision. I don't want to have miserable, unhappy memories of Paris - that seems an oxymoron, IT'S PARIS! I can't help but think of Carried Bradshaw in Paris and how unhappy she ended up being. The phone call she made to Miranda, Miranda handing Brady Cheerios. It's visions of the mundane everyday routines that tug on my heartstrings when I get homesick and I know that could happen. Could. And I have no Mr. Big to come rescue me.
World Stability. I'm more than a little concerned about world issues. If the hmmhmm hits the fan, I would like to be on American soil and near my family. However, it appears things will get worse before they get better, so I'd better go while I can. I could travel domestically and the hmmhmm could hit the fan and I would still be away from home. I do still trust the American government...sort of, so I guess if there is a catastrophe and I'm overseas (with hundreds of thousands of other Americans) they've got a plan to get us home, keep us safe, etc.
Plain old guilt. This is weird, but I have so much guilt. My parents and my sisters have never gotten to travel internationally, so why should I get to? Money plays a role in the guilt, too, but I already talked about that.
When it comes right down to it - I want to go, so badly, and in spite of all the reasons above. I can dispel them all. I'm just going to trust in God. If I'm not supposed to go, I know He'll put up a roadblock.
Back to the Last-Minute Deal - they're cheaper, and, for someone like me, who analyzes everything down the bone, who can over think which oatmeal flavor to eat for breakfast, and can worry to the point of physical illness, it's a good spur-of-the-moment decision making tool. Last time, I had seven months to talk myself out of the trip - this time I'll have about three weeks before departure.
Paris seems to be the lucky lady. I feel as though I have to get Paris out of the way before I can truly enjoy any other destination. And, if I only make it to Europe one time, Paris is the place I want to see more than any other.
Now, I have one week before my planned departure date is up for booking and I am nervous wreck. So far today I've felt pretty good about going, but I have moments where I panic. Here are some of the reasons:
Money. This trip will eat into my savings. I don't have a lot of money put back, but at least I have some. This trip won't take all of it, but all the same, I'm a freelance writer and a small private school administrator, I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. What if I need a filling? Ahhhh...see...there's the Type A. Good old "what if?" Be gone!
The book. Always the book. I tell myself I should take the time off and park in front of the computer. Well, I can tell you right now that won't work because if I'm at home I'm going to watch Seinfeld and do other worthless things (I am so NOT calling Seinfeld worthless). Additionally, I will get sucked into other tasks and I'll have people around who will distract me. Plus, I won't unwind, I need to disconnect. My mother (very wisely) suggested I use the trip as a reward - get the book ready and submitted to an agent before you go. In other words, the trip date will be my deadline. Note: I'm not taking my laptop to the other side of the world...I'm just not.
Traveling alone. I will be all by my lonesome. First trip overseas, alone. Is it a good idea? Paris is a well-developed city and I am a smart person. I've visited large American cities and have been able to navigate very well thanks to a little pre-departure research (I must exclude New York from this example - that was five days of perpetual lostness). But, Paris - I don't speak the language and I hear the French are less than helpful when it comes to poor, lost American tourists. Still, I will know my hotel address, will study maps and the metro system, will plan well, and if all else fails, I will bite the bullet and take a cab. I do like the idea of doing this completely alone. It reaffirms my independence and I won't have anyone to please and entertain but myself. So, I can stand in one spot along the Seine for an hour if I want to. I am a people pleaser and I usually put what I want aside to keep everyone else calm and happy, especially on trips.
Homesick. Yes, I do get homesick, although it usually only happens when things don't go well, or when I don't have a home base. A hotel is a home base, it's the place I belong. However, if French people are mean to me if and when I ask them for directions, I could get to missing home and second-guessing my decision. I don't want to have miserable, unhappy memories of Paris - that seems an oxymoron, IT'S PARIS! I can't help but think of Carried Bradshaw in Paris and how unhappy she ended up being. The phone call she made to Miranda, Miranda handing Brady Cheerios. It's visions of the mundane everyday routines that tug on my heartstrings when I get homesick and I know that could happen. Could. And I have no Mr. Big to come rescue me.
World Stability. I'm more than a little concerned about world issues. If the hmmhmm hits the fan, I would like to be on American soil and near my family. However, it appears things will get worse before they get better, so I'd better go while I can. I could travel domestically and the hmmhmm could hit the fan and I would still be away from home. I do still trust the American government...sort of, so I guess if there is a catastrophe and I'm overseas (with hundreds of thousands of other Americans) they've got a plan to get us home, keep us safe, etc.
Plain old guilt. This is weird, but I have so much guilt. My parents and my sisters have never gotten to travel internationally, so why should I get to? Money plays a role in the guilt, too, but I already talked about that.
When it comes right down to it - I want to go, so badly, and in spite of all the reasons above. I can dispel them all. I'm just going to trust in God. If I'm not supposed to go, I know He'll put up a roadblock.
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