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February 27, 2014: En route to Chicago

I appreciate abbreviations, so I believe Writings in Turkey (WIT) will do as a suitable follow up to my last trans-Atlantic travel journaling project: 2010 Israel’s Project JEDI (Journal Every Day in Israel).

Compared to the agonizing anticipation I felt before going to Israel, however, my trip to Turkey has almost entirely snuck up on me. Between midterms, rehearsals for Anne of Green Gables and Troilus and Cressida, editing Cathy’s dissertation, dancing, and tutoring, I haven’t had time to even mope about my stress level, let alone set my sights forward onto this trip.

Despite my frenzied last-minute packing this morning, which consisted mostly of throwing half-dried clothes into an engorged suitcase, I have had a really good—albeit scatter-brained—couple of weeks.

Perhaps, since I haven’t been dreaming about this trip for weeks in advance, crackling with anticipation, I’m not giving Turkey its due, but I don’t think that’s the case. Instead, I have felt particularly engaged in the areas of my life that needed to be handled before this trip.

Maybe anticipation is overrated. As excited as I now am about exploring another country, I would have been a useless lump over midterms if a week from then was all I could think about.

Now, on the road to Chicago, where we will fly out to Istanbul, the thrill of traveling has caught up with me, but I’m still keeping much of my eagerness in check. Lost luggage, memories made, beautiful photos, and unexpected illnesses could all be in my future, but until they strike, I will let the events that come roll off my back one at a time.

Anticipating problems can be destructive, but anticipating excitement can be likewise detrimental. When I stay stuck too far in the future, I blind myself to the pleasures of any given present moment.

When these future blessings do strike, I can only hope I have the perceptiveness to notice them as such, appreciate them fully, and remember them fondly afterwards.

I spend an awful lot of time stretching myself even further, even faster, in a rush towards my future. I find myself desperate to start studying, working, living so that I might one day see the fruition of all these frantic efforts.

However, among this desire to squeeze the most I can out of life, I must keep in mind how far I’ve come right now and how that alone is an accomplishment. I can be who I am—impatient, confused, imperfect—and still marvel at how much I’ve learned, even if I am not yet all I may come to be.

I have begun to discover faith in myself, a confidence borne out of a quiet assurance that, despite the looming question mark that is my future, I have great potential to grow.

I will continue to try to live in the moment. I will love people as they are today, and I will marvel unabashedly at my present self. Perhaps, by releasing the death-grip I try to hold on tomorrow, the future successes I wish for will eventually deign to find me.