Panic Attack from a Non-Fangirl Outlander Fangirl

It’s Tuesday. My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and I feel a little bit nauseous. Did I just finish Tuesday cardio? Nope. I’m thinking about Outlander in the City. In a mere five nights I’ll be rubbing shoulders (literally?) with the stars of Outlander and 300 other people in New York City and I am petrified. Before I go any further let’s get some things straight. I am not a fangirl. I am not a television geek. I am not a book geek. I don’t get starstruck. Several years ago, I signed up as an extra for the filming of Ides of March because it was being shot mere feet from my office. I then sat calm, cool, and collected as George Clooney walked past me (within touching distance) repeatedly over the course of several hours. It was an amazing experience but I wasn’t geeking out over it.

And, yet, here I sit wondering how the evening will play out. Will I engage with these folks that I’ve seen on the screen or will I find a comfy spot, sip whisky, and operate in my default “people watching” mode? Will they want to engage given their busy schedules and multiple recent appearances? Will they look at me the way I sometimes look at people when they walk in my office? Yes, I know I need to control my face but I’m 42 and it feels like water under the bridge at this point. How many selfies can they really endure?

At this point the anxiety voices that live in my head are plaguing me with their incessant chatter. Why are you even doing this? This is silly! It’s not too late to cancel. Someone would LOVE to have your ticket. Guess what assholes? I’m doing it and I am determined to have a brilliant time. Whether I show up as a people-watcher or a mingler I already know that this is a night that I will remember for a very long time.

Want to tag along? I’ll do my best to  tweet pics and updates and (maybe) some selfies with my favorite smokin’ hot Highlanders. You can follow me on Twitter @nikkigastineau.

Terror, Lies, and Ariana Grande

I have been toying with the idea of reviving my blog for awhile now. Tonight as I looked through my two dormant sites, it didn't seem right to pick up where I'd left off. Too much has happened to attempt to bridge all the gaps and tie up all the loose ends. So, I will start fresh here. Now.

I thought that I would start with something funny and then something altogether not funny happened and I found myself in that numb place within myself where I tend to shelter until the world feels a little safer. And even when I do come out from hiding I know that I've done so based on a lie because the world isn't safe...not at all. Some days I don't know whether it's the violence or the lies that bother me most. I never played up Santa Clause with my child because I couldn't bear the thought of lying to her for 8-10 years and then one day crushing her with the truth. Yet, tonight, when she walked into the living room and asked what happened I told her that it was a weird thing at a concert and some people got hurt. I know too well that "those people" were probably kids her age or a little older and that several died. It's too much to think that parents sent their kids to a concert, probably nervous because it was the first time, and that hours later they are desperately scouring a city searching for their babies and fearing the worst. I signed up for changing diapers and sending brownies for school events. I didn't sign up for explaining to my child why kids died at an Ariana Grande concert and I don't know how to do it. The ask feels way too big right now.

I'll leave this here for now and come back tomorrow or the next day when the terror feels a little further away...a little bit more like something that doesn't happen to people who live in cities like mine or to children who look like mine. For the remainder of the night, I will hold those families and those children close in my thoughts and whatever prayers I can piece together. Dona nobis pacem.