A new direction home

Last week, I had one of those "oh fuck... what have I been doing with my life and where am I going" panic attacks and nearly didn't go to ACL because of it. It hit me that I've been eating through my bank account- as well as my parents'- this past month and wandering through life lacking ambition, direction, and responsibility. It was nice. It was fun. It definitely fostered my commitment phobia. But there came that inevitable point of realization that it cannot go on forever. 

My dad sat me down tonight and gave me the "you're heading down the same path I did at your age... you need goals, direction, and a job" speech. He couldn't have picked a better time... after deciding stick to my plans and go to ACL, I vowed to myself to get my shit together when I got back. It was probably the best (and extremely overdue in many ways) conversation I've ever had with my dad. 

I came to the final realization that I don't give a shit about journalism. I wish I did, but it just doesn't fit me. I'd rather be a part of the story and tell it later in my own way. I want to help people, listen to them, help them find a reason to live and find their own happiness. I'd love to be a part of some organization that goes to disaster areas- war aftermath, hurricane aftermath, etc, and help people get their lives together again. And so... I think I'm going to become a statistical college student and change my major, to social work. 

It's a beautiful day, and I'm in a slump

I'm broke.

I'm irresponsible.

I put forth too conscious an effort to make myself fit with the sway of the world while standing out at the same time.

I have no idea what I want. Except one thing, and I'm too afraid of it to make it any further than pursuit.

For the love of God, why am I allowing myself to sink into this mess?

When I grow up, I want to

... be the kindest person I can be. It's a step further from being 'nice', like 2-D to 3-D.

... be a part of lots of somethings and capture their significance in words and film.

... tell stories.

... inspire.

... love and be loved

... be content and find a constant state of satisfaction with myself and the people and life I'm surrounded by

... touch the shadows in people's lives, brighten them, and be remembered fondly with a smile

... tell my story in your words and your story in mine

... put the nicest version of myself out, for my intentions and innermost desires to be instinctive actions

I'm okay with being the nice guy who finishes last. First place is lonely, there's nobody at the end of the race to give you a high-five. When you're last, there's tons of people to run into and koala hug.

We're "growing up" at this very moment. It's a constant state- you're never really "grown up" (in the past tense), you're always in the process of "growing up". These are the things my soul is budding out. This is who I want to be. Kind. Joyful. And a story teller. 

(I may or may not have been incredibly repetitive... sorry >_< )