Finally back from vacation.  I barely slept at all the past two days due to my anxiousness to get home and fear of the plane crashing on the way to Chicago (I had a dream the prior night that it did).  Thankfully, my dream was wrong, and I arrived back safely. Having such anxiety over the possibility of my death made me realize one thing:  I am not ready to die.  There are several things that I still want to do in this lifetime, and it is going to be quite a bit of time before I have the ability to perform them.  I want to climb a mountain or something like that.  I want to skydive.  I want to run the entire Great Wall of China.  I want to be inside a clocktower for as long as permitted.  I want to try living in a cave, etc.  It's odd how none of my desires in life are to "help people" or "leave  my mark."  Originally, I wanted to become immortal through the minds of other people.  If X remembers who I am, and passes that information on, then my knowledge and ideas shall live on forever.  But I suppose I've stopped thinking like that, at least for the time being.  If I had died that moment, I would not have been able to die satisfactorily, and thus it is good I am not dead. When you have been gone for a week, there is alot to do upon arriving back home.  I had some one hundred email messages to read or respond to, though none were very important or pressing.  I feel like I am out of the social loop that I had been running before (though I can't really consider myself to be a part of it since I don't participate all that much) and now I need to catch up to be on step with everyone else.  I haven't been to work in a week, either, going back tomorrow should prove to be odd.  Perhaps the strangest thing, however, is that I am slightly looking forward to going back for some odd reason.  I cannot put my finger on this at all, but for some reason I am looking forward to going back to work for a few more weeks before summer is over, I move into my new apartment, and university resumes.