So, its weird, as everyone runs around their house, and pulls their hair out, going crazy, I remain strangely calm. I don't know why I'm not that stoked for Cuba, I know I should be, and I know its logical to be excited.

I was talking to someone earlier, and I realized that I think that I've traveled alot in my life, and this waiting period has sadly become all too routine for me. I've gotten used to the buzz before, and the little preparations you have to go through before you leave. I even have a traveling playlist and a few books laid out (I'll be finishing a bunch of books I've started. This trip I'm thinking of finishing "Nothing To Be Afraid Of" by Julian Barnes and "Reading Like A Writer; A guide for those who love books, and want to write them" by Francis Prose).

Strangely, my favorite part of going anywhere, strangely, is the flight and the airport. I don't know why, but theres something strange I enjoy about being in there.

Fuck, I should pack.