2001-08-14

So I've asked for the time off and had it approved. I've submitted my "expedited" passport application (because I couldn't get it together the month before.) The Boyfriend already got his passport six days after he submitted his application...they said mine should arrive the end of the week. We're making real solid plans for Spain. Reservations. Tickets. Itineraries.

This trip is getting more real every day, and I'm getting more scared.

Ok, maybe that's not entirely true. I know these are just new-experience jitters. I know that I alternate between excited and petrified just the same as I did before, so it's not really getting any worse, at least. It's just that we're getting to the point where we need to make some real decisions, something in which I'm not particularly skilled. Decisions mean anxiety, and my hangnails know exactly how well I deal with anxiety.

I read mention of the possibility of an SF Bay Area Queer Blogger/Journal-Writer's "Clique" Meet-and-Greet. I like the idea. There are a ton of people I've meant to follow up with but never have out of shyness or just the madness of living. I hope that if such an event happens I'll be in town for it.

Oh, now this is maddening: I left a message with an agent at a Southern California booking company to try to book a room in a 15th Century Convent that is now part of a Spanish National Hotel group. It looks amazing; while ordinarily reservations are required three months in advance, they have rooms available for both nights we were hoping to stay. Unfortunately, I balked and checked with the Boyfriend and now I can't get in touch with the agent who helped me originally. No one else in his office wanted to take his commission from him and now I'm imagining tons of ugly smelly tourists trying to book the room while I wait--and wait--for him to reply. Mauricio, please call me!

Nothing I can do, so in the interim I'll write a little to avoid beginning this project so late in the day. Though we're so short on time for these projects, it feels like I can't throw myself into anything lately. It's hard to wrap my brain around anything more intellectually difficult than Sim Theme Park or Shrek (this past weekend's entertainment.) The projects are involved and complicated, and political, and all I want to do is go home to my blankie.

Note to self: Grown-ups do not cry for their blankies.

The Boyfriend asked me point blank if I was unhappy at my job. I don't know...I'm such a guy sometimes. I don't know what I'm feeling unless it involves a bodily fluid. I do notice that I passive-aggressively put off work I should do, stay up too late on workdays so I'm tired at work, get angry or paranoid frighteningly easily...though this may be just dot-com life.

I do know that I nightmare-fantasize about being laid off. I don't want to lose my job and have to look for new work, but at the same time I don't know that I'd be particularly sad to leave. I just don't want to have to make the decision. Story of my life, there.

Ok, great. An hour later, and Mauricio finally called me back. Got the room! Though with fees and taxes it was a lot more expensive than I thought, or at least, a lot more expensive than it would have been if I'd have called and tried to make reservations in Spanish dialing internationally.

Did I mention that I'm the official Spanish language mouthpiece for the trip? Only about twelve times? Ok then. The Boyfriend's Spanish seems to stop around "s�," though I think he knows a little more than he lets on. Me? I read better than I speak or hear. I'm practicing the most common phrases: Hable Ud. mas despacio, por favor. Soy Vegetera�o. Por favor, �tiene una plata sin carne? Lo siento, no comprende porque estoy un turisto estupido.

Of course while waiting for Mauricio I also got a message from the Passport agency that my "official" birth certificate isn't official enough. Apparently it's a hospital birth certificate. It's not good enough to have just any sort of seal on it with my parent's names, doctor's signature, etcetera. Now I have to make a trip to my birthplace to get a notarized "legal" copy. Maybe there's someplace here in SF where they can look that up, maybe I can just have them send it directly. Now I just have to find out where to get that might be.

As if I don't have enough stuff going on right now.

There are two or three bear-projects at work all trying to occupy my full attention, including at least one that I've been delaying (and not always out of laziness or passive-aggression, either.) I've been hit with the full force of my procrastination all at once, both for putting off planning for the trip and finishing stuff at work. For this I can't blame anyone but myself. Why is it so hard for me learn not to do this? Maybe I need to make time to read that book on procrastination the Roommate has.

Well, maybe tomorrow....

2003-03-29 - Moving Notice
2002-06-04 - Accordians and Ambassadors (Diary Fragment)
2002-05-24 - Manias (Diary Fragment)
2002-05-09 - See this little island here?
2002-04-24 - Bored and Drippy.