I actually had a real good template made for this post, thought up during my 7 hour flight—economy class, planes, airports and the whole shebang in general are, in my new opinion, some twisted person's way to torture people who just like to travel. Seriously. I mean, where do I begin?—of which I spent about half sleeping, and the other half trying not to go a little bit mad.
At times like that I tend to ask myself, what would the dalai lama do?
"What would the dalai lama do?" I asked myself.
Maybe he'd say, "yeah, there are a lot of reasons to cry, but there are also a lot of reasons to be happy! Smile!'
I smile at the mirror, but to be honest I'm just humoring myself; that's the kind of thing clueless people say before they get the death glare.
Perhaps he'd tell me, "If you can't do anything about it, why worry? If you can do something about it, why worry?" And this actually calms me down for a while, until, inevitably, I start to worry again. It's like I can't help myself, or that's what I like to think, because it's a really good crutch for pushing away responsibility: I can't help myself.
Anyway I just take myself through this worry/unworry cycle until I get a headache and decide to sleep.
Which reminds me, I gotta sleep. Part 2 of 2877221123405 tomorrow.