ugh, thoughts.

I used to turn to this blog more frequently when I started having trouble processing my own thoughts.  It was an avenue I could walk down, spilling words like diarrhea from my fingers (there's an image for you) and sorting them out in the process.  Adoring someone from afar, being so pissed at a former friend I didn't know what else to do but write, finding a random speck of gold from a family vacation 20 years earlier and remembering the whole story surrounding.

Trivial things, really, compared to the thoughts in my head lately.  I'm not happy in my apartment, should I buy a house?  If I buy a house, how long does that lock me up for in Wisconsin?  If I'm locked up in Wisconsin, how far off does that push moving to Texas?  If I push Texas off for five years, does that mean I'll be a washed-up-mid-30-something-gay-guy when I get there?

I'm only halfway worried about the last part.  You decide which and we'll just go with it.

28 isn't old and I know that, but it isn't young either.  I was talking to someone the other day at work and commenting on how many people refer to me as "just a baby" or "still so young" and how annoying it can be.  On the flip side, eventually I know that will all go away and it'll be a sad day for me when it does, but the point remains.

At what age am I supposed to stop pulling up my big boy pants, realize they are already around my waist, and just get a move on?  Stop guessing and fretting and just start doing.  Nike built an empire out of saying "Just Do It" and still I find myself not listening and wondering what will happen if I do.  My sister pinned something today that caught my eye:

And it's just... true.  It's true.  I can't tell you how many times in my life I've stopped myself from doing something simply because I was too edgy about the outcome.  What about you?  It is the same old song and dance that I have been whining about for three years but I feel it's because it is still such a valid one.  With unlimited money and no debt at all, I'm sure this decision would be done in a snap.  Want a house?  Go buy one.  Want to move across the country?  Go nuts.

But I don't have unlimited quantities of cash, I'm certainly not debt free, and thus the decision is more of a snaaaoooope.  Nope.

I think about what the worst is that could happen in each scenario.  I move to Texas: can't find a place to live, wear out my welcome with my brother, and end up calling home for help so I can move back with my tail between my legs.  I buy a house: uncover all sorts of problems, bite off more than I can chew, end up upside down on the property and take a huge hit to my credit in the process.  I stay in Appleton forever: end up miserable, single, and wondering why I never gave any of it a chance when I was young.  And there you have it, my beloved blog readers.

"When I was young."

I look back on my life and think about how many possibilities lay before me.  It doesn't happen too often, and really it's mostly happening now because of the Olympics, the rare occasion you get to watch people who have trained for something their entire life for a moment of glory.  And you sit on the couch and eat your pizza and drink your lemonade and think "that'd be neat."  Not to be specific, of course.

I like to think my parents would have supported me being an Olympian, but I'll never know, because I never tried.  I never asked if I could participate in a specific sport or if I did, pushed to stay with it.  The only thing I've ever pushed myself to do is to finish my books, which is an Olympic event all on its own.  Or it should be ::tosses hair::

I know what I need to do and for the most part, I know how I need to do it.  I need to put my nose down, write out a plan with as much detail as I put into my book outlines, and then I need to get it over with.  Easier said than done but I did it with "26 Golden Things" and I don't see why this should be any different.  I know I've got the support group behind me should I need it, I know I've got the helping hands ready to reach out should I require them.  Sometimes it feels like it is enough and a lot of other times it feels like it's not.  What is right and what is wrong?  I dunno.

Maybe I'll figure it out when I get there; I just really fucking hate being wrong.