Off the Deep End

I've been operating under a Clinton Induced High since yesterday. I failed to watch my favorite show, Dancing with the Stars, last night after I completely forgot it existed. And at various points in the evening I would announce to anyone listening, "Oh my God...I met Bill Clinton."

This behavior was very similar to that of a tween girl who'd just met a Jonas Brother. Just saying.

I'm slowly, but surely, coming out of my euphoric state and am now fully able to realize how proud I am of myself. Not for shaking Bill's hand or anything like that. But for going. For showing up when I had no idea how to get there. And for going with my gut in such a spur of the moment circumstance.

You see, doing what I did yesterday off of the cuff is actually quite unlike me. I meticulously plan things like that. I print maps and make sure my family knows what is going on ahead of time. I'm cautious and careful to the point of miserable.

I want so desperately to be the kind of person who just hops in the car and goes for it. Whatever it may be. And yesterday as I hightailed it to Paris I was actually happy and giddy. Somehow I don't think that happiness is just from The President. It was an adventure. I was alone. I had no map. I had to become resourceful.

And I did. Which, in the process, led me to actually seeing Bill Clinton speak. Even after I thought for sure I wouldn't get to. That was an amazing stroke of luck. Or fate. Or just the universe's way of proving to me that sometimes going off of the deep end is worth it.

I kind of liked the deep water.