If It Weren't for Last Minutes, Nothing Would Get Done

I can't believe it's been almost a year. I leave for Tanzania today.

Don't really feel scared, or nervous, or anything like that at all. Mostly, I just feel tired. I've been working hard--last night until 2 am to finish up--and in between that, hosting a holy African man (more on that later), talking to people about starting a nonprofit, and, of course, maintaining my #1 girlfriend-of-rocker status by making it to all of Mark's shows.

But isn't that everybody's life in New York?

It's wierd--more than anything, I feel Africa coming. It woke me up this morning. And as I sit here in my bed, surrounded by my things and my comforts, I can already feel them melting away into that greater, but more uncomfortable, truth. Believe it or not, I am actually looking forward to the two-day flight to give me time to fully change gears. When I come out the other side, I know I'll feel like more of a human again instead of a robot--rushing, rushing--through the day.

My flight takes off at 9:30 tonight, and there's packing (like, all of it) still left to do. But wish me luck. Pray that people will open up to me and share their stories. And I'll keep you posted.