Today is the first day of my five-day Easter break, and at this point I hope the other four get better.

Nothing really dreadful, but allergies are making me insanely itchy and people are generally trying.

Also, I am feeling oddly anxious about going to visit the fam for Easter. I am generally happy with life. Of course there are goals I am working toward–namely house-buying and finishing another book and revising my Garolass book–but I love my husband and friends and the city I live in. So why oh why when faced with the prospect of extended family and old friends am I feeling so insecure? I would not be happy living in small hometown with 3.5 children and, say, working in the health industry. There is nothing wrong with that choice, not at all, but it would not be right for me. (Heh, especially considering my near-pathological fear of hospitals. And the husband who would have to be dragged kicking and screaming away from DC theatre.)

So…why do I feel so defensive about it? It’s some weird remnant from childhood, of not feeling like I belonged, of wanting something different and feeling bizarrely guilty about it.

But it’s frustrating that by age almost-29, some part of me still feels guilty. Worried about seeming too snobby, too bookish, too talkative, too quiet, too city-girlish, too ambitious, too daydreamy…too much me.

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