One Of Us Is Afraid
And it's me. It's been such a long time since I sat down and actually wrote with any regularity that I now fear the blank page. The blankness of it... is overwhelming. I look at my sitcom spec (I've only got until Tuesday to finish an episode of "Family Guy" for class) and I'm completely intimidated. So much so, in fact, that I find myself crippled to move forward.
Why bring it up? Why start typing in here again after a month-long hiatus? Because, my dear children, I've noticed that the overwhelming blankness of the page is just a cover--a metaphor, if you will--for the blankness that is my future. To further speak in metaphors, I'm looking ahead in the book of my life and noticing how many blank pages there are. Some people find this exciting... but I find it crippling. Chelsey thinks that I've become so afraid to fail that I've stopped trying... and I think that's about as accurate as it gets. Rather than trying and failing, I've just stopped trying new things. And so, just as the blog has always been a reflection of my inner-self/thoughts... I come back to it. I've realized that anything worth wanting doesn't just "come" to you without chipping away at it for months and years. So I tackle the blog just as I hope to tackle my fears of the outside world--its unfair judgments, its unequal distribution of resources, and its rejection of anything outside the norm or familial--in the only way I know how: slowly chipping away at it.

After a diatribe like that, what is there to say? Over the past month, Chelsey and I have fully moved ourselves into the Lakeview area. The move facilitated renting a U-Haul, which I expertly used to strike another vehicle... then there was the resulting insurance troubles. Additionally, since I last wrote regularly, my car's alternator blew... resulting in roughly $600 worth of damages. That would be an intimidating figure for someone who DID have a job.

I'm still jobless, and prospects don't look good. I am leaning, instead, towards going to Grad School. There is a program at Northwestern that I'm going to be applying to in the next few months... which will hopefully give me direction. I've noticed that my life (much like others of my generation) has been like the flow of a river. We start up in Minnesota as a trickle or in Colorado as a mountain stream... we are sent to schools and are giving a straight path. Sure we can go in the occasional circle, and we might join others like us along the way... but it's pretty much a straight path from where you are to where you're headed. And where we're all being sent is the ocean, the "real world," and its vastness. And that vastness--much like the blankness of the page--is a crippling thought for me. Some people don't mind being out on the open sea, with all its possibilities, but the thought of seemingly endless possibilities has always scared me. I suppose it's the thought of going the wrong way and drowning. So, instead of paddling in one direction--any direction--I sit and hope that something will come along to point me the "right" way. The idea that I continue to not fully grasp is the thought that, no matter which way you go, you'll end up back on land eventually. Some paths are a little more or less direct than others. I guess, somewhere in the back of my mind, I just can't understand that things are going to be just fine no matter what I decide to do.

My indecision, long-since a flaw of mine, is really starting to wear Chelsey down. I think she doesn't care what I do as long as I'm doing something... and I keep coming up with ideas and not following through. The only thing I've done well, and done consistently, is going to Second City. That seems to be the only thing I can get myself to do with any regularity. Whether it be some notion that the place itself will make me famous, or I just really enjoy the people--the students, the instructors, and the staff--but it's the only idea I've had that I haven't dropped for one reason or another.

Perhaps a more subtle reason why SC is still labeled "Good idea" in my head is that it's something I feel comfortable telling people I'm doing. I recently spent some time with my aunt and uncle who I haven't seen for... *thinks*... 7 or 8 years? I think the last time I saw them was when my grandfather died. Regardless, going to SC was something I felt comfortable with and proud of... I didn't need to say "I work at Coldstone" and watch them struggle to find something positive to say about a 25-year old who scoops ice cream. Yet another reason I find it hard to get a job typing or making copies? Would I find it hard to justify, mentally, why I would waste my time as a cog in a corporate machine? Especially since that's never been something that has interested me... but what else is there in this city?

And that leads me to something else. I've gotten to a point where Chicago is really starting to wear on me. I'm sick of over-paying for small apartments with non-working refrigerators (can't buy milk because it doesn't keep more than two days), over-paying for parking (now at $245 a month), and waiting in long lines for groceries or fast food. I am a perfect example of taking the boy out of the small town, but not taking the small-town out of the boy. I suppose that's one of the reasons I thirst for the college-life so much: it's a small community within bigger ones.

So, yes, my thought is grad school... and hopefully hiding from the "real world" as a college professor for as long as they let me hide. Or growing a pair and letting the world beat me down for a decade before I finally win in the end? History will show that I can be a patient man when I know what I want. Let's find out how the rest of this story goes, shall we?