clouds and their linings

Little clouds, torched.

My stomach is itchy, and I can't sit still like I constantly have to pee.  My limbs are tingly, and there's a gnawing, and there's a heavy cloud at the back of my brain.  Thinking about the hectic commotion of a conference and the crowds.  Rehearsed introductions.  Repeated fascinations.  Begging for someone to give me attention and a future - they have to see it in a smile and a firm handshake.  This will be one of the few times I appreciate plans - that is, someone else's plans for me.  

Big clouds, broiled.

Traveling in large groups gives me anxiety.  Following masses of people floating in every direction, accommodating the majority, keeping tabs and prioritizing your wants.  You're putting me in a big city, but how am I going to see all of the big city?

Nestled over lemon curd on vanilla cake.

5:30am flight?  "That's possible?" is my father's response to that.  Chicago, here I [almost] come... for four days... but not before tours of Neomande bakery and Larry's Beans.  Master Chef Benjamin is probably my favorite person on earth right now - the free loaf of [defective] multigrain and brioche and French baguette definitely helps.

Don't you hate when you forget your headphones?  Basically can't do anything without them.

And I finally got a Duke decal for Sunny (so named in honor of NZ) - subtle cry for help?  Maybe I don't want to move on?  Let the self-questioning, self-effacing, lowered self-esteem begin as the idea of grad schools settles in.  This is undergrad applications all over again.