Believing in fate, to me anyway, implies a belief in something bigger than you. And I'm not sure I buy into that. Well, I believe in something. But the who/what/how many is still under debate.
I think that at any given time in your life, there are a million different ways you could be going. Every decision you make pulls you in another direction... a unique reality. It's not special, it's not "where you're supposed to be," it's just where you are.
Wherever you go, there you are.
(I had a history teacher who said that and I dig it. So there you are.)
(Now that I think about it, that's probably some super famous quote by someone that I should know. Whatever.)
My question now is, how in the hell am I supposed to ever be content doing anything? Maybe this is just my birth order coming to play. Being the youngest means always trying to get in on everything everyone else is doing - always worrying about what we're missing out on. How can I be content here, if there might be something better over there? How can I make a relationship work with one person, if I'm constantly thinking of how I might be happier with someone else? How am I supposed to eat mushroom pizza when that grilled cheese sandwhich might change my life? These are the things that plague me.
Losing my sense of "purpose" was probably the hardest part of realizing how bogus organized religion is. When you're raised in the Assemblies of God (or really any denomination, I just happened to have been brought up Diet Pentacostal), everything that happens to you is (cue Oz voice) The Will of the Lord. That really makes things easy, you know? It's basically a free ride through life - no responsibility for your actions necessary. (I'm really not trying to knock Christians, it just always comes out that way now. Too many parentheses.)
What do you do when lose that? How do you know when something is right? Are things right, or do they just work for the moment?
I've never been content with anything in my whole life. I have an anxious personality. I've always attributed my fidgeting to this town. "If I could just get out of this town, I could really start living."
Well, my whining has finally turned into action, and in a few short months I'll be packing up with an old friend and heading to one of the busiest "towns" in the world. But how do I know that this is the right move? What if I'm more of a Seattle girl? But I really like the idea of moving to the mountains? School is so much cheaper here, shouldn't I wait until graduation (25 years from now)?
And I mean, just what am I supposed to do if I meet the man of my dreams before January? Hm? Should I settle in Arkansas and have forty babies and maybe a double-wide of my very own?
...Of course I'm joking. I've pretty much accepted the fact that I am incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship. Fairytale Shmairytale.
I'm just tired of worrying. This is a beautiful life, friends, and I'm going to stop waiting on it to start.
So, January. New York City.
Sink or swim, right?
But don't worry, Arkansas, no matter where I end up, I'll always be callin' those Hogs.
Oliver is not amused.