Sundance Sick

Keith coined the perfect phrase last night, instead of homesick, he says I'm terribly "Sundance sick." Nothing could be more true.

I'd planned on writing about this being my first year of not going since 2002 and how much I was going to miss it, but I had no idea just how much I'd miss it until it became too late for me to go. Even at midnight last night I was trying to calculate how long it'd take me to get there if I drove all night. This morning I checked for last minute flight deals.

And yet, a few weeks ago, Keith and I were at lunch and I flipped a coin to see if I should go. The coin landed on me going, but the strangest thing was that I didn't want to. It's weird. This whole time while trying to make the decision on whether to stay or go I kept focusing on all the negatives - having to drive up and down the mountain every day; it's exhausting; most of the celebrities there I've already met or live here; it's so cold; I didn't want to miss work; it's too far to drive; it's expensive; I'd miss Keith too much; I can't find my snow gear. You name it; I thought it.

What's funny is that all these years I've said that the festival wasn't just about the celebrities for me. I mean, sure, it's a huge part, but it's also about the wonderful friends I've made, the experiences I've had, the incredible films I've seen, and just the overall feeling of being there in the heart of it. I love it. I always have. I always will.

But last night, as I started realizing that I really wasn't going this year and it truly sunk in, I started to break down. I began focusing on everything I'd miss and all those amazing people I always see once a year. I've grown to love these people, these friends. They came to my wedding. They're on my Christmas card list. I may only see them once a year, but it's always been my favorite time of year; my own Christmas. Sundance was my primary holiday and I looked forward to it all year long.

Now, it's true that not everyone goes anymore. Half of my "crew" doesn't return year after year. Only the die-hards do it now. But, still. There are enough people that come who make up for it. And now I won't get to see them.

I feel like curling up in ball and sleeping until it's all over. I missed it. I'm missing the whole thing. I don't want updates. I don't want to know what I missed. It already hurts too much and I'm deeply regretting my decision to stay home. I must be crazy.

Next year I'll plan better. I'll figure it out. I'll stop talking myself out of following my heart and just going - rallying through.

And yet, at the same time, I'm looking forward to being in town this weekend. It's the Hollywood Show. It's the SAG awards. It's going to be fun regardless, right? I can do this. It's just a festival. It's not my whole life (these are things I'm going to repeat to myself until I believe them).