WTF Am I Doing This For, Anyway?

I took a call from Little Westside Jonny yesterday.  He has decided to leave The Old City for a four month stay in sunny, sunny Arizona - a wise move, I think, for a guy who dislikes cold bones as much as I do.  I got the sense that he was a little keyed up about the trip.  He's going to be working which will take up a lot of his time; moreover, he's already been in touch with the local Fellowship office to pre-schedule some meetings and also found a place where he can exercise, and has some day trips lined up.  

The fact that the planning is exquisite doesn't free us from the anxiety about facing something new. SuperK and I are getting ready to head back to Southeast Asia for an extended stay in about a week.  Right about now is when the nerves overwhelm the planning and I begin to mutter: "Why exactly am I doing this again?"  Just staying put and indulging my familiar, much-beloved routine is, today, my choice of action.  I start to plot to see if I can figure out how to extricate myself from this ridiculous web of my own making?  

Personally, I have to do these things so that I stretch and grow.  It isn't for everyone.  Some of us are more comfortable maintaining that routine, and there's nothing the matter with that.  Some of us need to strike out for the territory ahead.  But it doesn't help my nerves to hear people say: "Why are you going there?  Why are you doing that?"  And it doesn't help that I can't really come up with a good reason for doing a lot of the stuff that I do.

I'm always struck about what people get all jazzed up about.  For the longest time SuperK has worried about losing her luggage while I've worried about getting murdered.  And getting screwed by an unscrupulous taxi driver.  Well, I haven't been murdered yet, to the best of my knowledge, and if someone has bilked a few extra dollars out of me I'm unaware of the particulars. We started to make a pact - I take care of the luggage logistics and she fends off the murderers. 

Right now I'm worried about getting stuck in a middle seat in and having gas on the plane. SuperK rolls her eyes: "We're going to Vietnam, you idiot, and you're worried about gas? And why do you care about where you're going to sit - you sleep the whole trip."  Good points, all.  I'm too afraid of her to point out that we've never lost our luggage, either.

I'm too embarrassed to ask what she's worried about this trip.