I have experienced anxiety about many things in my life. Not writing a blog entry since Thanksgiving for one, but also traveling home for Christmas, waiting at JFK during a snowstorm for my ride, seeing family and friends, dealing with the expectations of a new year, and finally, saying goodbye and flying the red-eye back to Morocco. These past four months, in and out of Morocco, have passed quickly. Time seems to speed up even more around the holiday season. Time with friends and family becomes a memory almost before the completion of the experience. I recall some instances back home, around Christmas or hanging out with Blythe, experiencing a moment--and even before this moment had passed--being able to step back and see myself, almost from the perspective of a third person. At times these out-of-body-experiences seemed rather unnerving. But they all supported the feeling that I had left for Morocco even before I arrived back home for Christmas. I am not questioning the fickleness of the space-time continuum, but with my date of departure set for January 5th, it became difficult for me to live in moments, for I always perceived the continuum. Like waking up from a fantastic dream, you have the vague and hazy notion that you have just visited some spectacular heaven-on-earth. And when I awoke, I was back in Morocco. Not to say Morocco is the opposite of heaven. It just has more paperwork.
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