I am stressed. I am antsy. And I have no way of stopping these feelings.

Honestly, I believe it's a combination of the impending flight, the waiting for the package my uncle wants and I ended up expediting to myself on the day I have to reach the airport, and the checking into the airport process. Sometimes, I wonder which is worse, the checking in or the actual flying.

At the heart of all of those anxieties is the simple fact that I have no control over these things.

I can't make the package arrive any earlier (although tracking the package has given me some measure of comfort). I can't guarantee that the check-in process will be a breeze. I can't control how the flight is going to go or whether I'll end up puking a lung again (this time though, I'm nabbing one of Mic's anti-nausea pills).

It's times like these that the idea behind psychological motivation being control gets reiterated to my wee little brain. Ah geez, my anxiety levels has gone up again.

This had better not be some demented sixth sense thing warning me not to go onto the plane because if it is, I'm likely to end up regretting not following my very tied-up gut. I'm getting on that plane. I'm going to hope I won't end up puking my guts out (or any other organ). I am not enjoying this process.

Eyaaargh!

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Edit 2.01pm: I just saw the damn FedEx truck go by and turn into the opposite road. Dammit! Come back here, you darn truck! My house first! My house FIRST!!!! Aaaaaaaargh!