it's Saturday and I'm sitting at Starbucks, our agreed upon meeting place. I've spread out my stuff on the table set up to accommodate people with wheelchairs. The table is bigger than the others. I'm not planning on being @ bucks for long. We'll see though. I feel anxious, performance jiggers and telling myself 'this isn't a performance' isn't helping. It FEELS like a performance. I mean I'm taking photos of my stuff on the table, this is not something I do everyday. But, hey, now that I think about it, maybe I should take pictures of my Sitting Spaces for a week or so to see what that would look like... ahhh, distraction thinking about another project, that's helping reduce my jiggers.
What if no one shows up to dance with me?(aaaaa, high school panic of throwing a party that no one shows up to. That only happened once, and it was just a bunch of stupid freshman boys who didn't show up at my house with me and girlfriends and who I had made all this food for: stacks of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice and little Jimmy Dean sausages all on paper plates with my mother's wicker plates underneath them and folded paper napkins and ouch, how disappointing was that?)
Okay, I'll do the project anyway.
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