Friday, August 17, 2012

Rockets, Baseball Bats, and Solid ground

School starts next week and I'm not signed up for any classes. Surprised? Me neither. I'm taking "flying by the seat of my pants" to a whole new level. It's as though I've packed my pants pockets with rockets and I'm lighting one every so often in order to reflect that moment when indecision cements itself into becoming a decision by default. Not that I'm not worried about it; I look for an opening every morning and evening in a class that I need, but this is what happens when you mega-procrastinate and switch majors a week before classes begin and spin around in circles with the tip of your nose on the end of a bat and then let go. WoOooaAah. Spinny. I wouldn't mind a little solid ground right now.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

All Growed Up

The fall school semester is upon us. It's giving me some anxiety. I supposedly have enough credits to apply for my Associates. I'm dragging my heels. I think this is because once I have my Associates I will be pushed from the cozy nest I've made at a community college and plunged into the cold uncharted waters of a university. Universities cost more. The teachers are more intimidating (in theory). I don't know my way around the campus. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, even though I've already taken more time than your average go-getter would have taken. Being an adult is hard. I can scarcely decide what to wear in the morning; which toothpaste to choose in the grocery store; what I'm making for dinner. My free time is on autopilot. Now I have to choose a career path. I have to think and make grown up decisions and live with the consequences. I feel less at fault for potential failure if I just coast into the next open door, rather than reading the signs on the path, wiggling handles, picking locks that are intriguing. I want to get a dart board and paste my top ten choices on it, shoot, shoot, shoot a dart into my future. Make me feel less on-the-hook. How does one decide? I have been receding into the shadows of avoidance. I see neither bulls nor horns here. It is lukewarm and familiar and disappointing.