xForums -> Ann Coulter is a bitch

First off.

I am concerned.

I am concerned because I am feeling impulsive. Travel-impulsive, as it were.

Impulsive feelings bother me intuitively because I’ve spent quite some time over the past five years battening down the impulsive urges. They get me into trouble. They have placed me in the line of fire of a police cocaine raid. They have stuck my butt stranded on a sandstone cliff face in the middle of the desert with nobody within twenty miles, no phone, no outside contact. They are directly responsible for three of the sealed cracks in my heart and the names inscribed in the tissue next to them.

In other words, I don’t like my impulsive nature. I try to think things through logically. But I’m concerned because logic isn’t winning through on this one.

I am concerned because logically, I know when I go home for the weekend, I will spend $75 in gasoline driving the 750 miles back and forth between my folks’ home and Seattle; $50 in drinks and dinner with friends; $50 in just plain fritterables, and $50 in tax-free purchases. I also know this is approximately the same cost as a plane ticket to a certain state.

I am concerned because this mental state is not what I want, nor where I would like to be. I do not want to be rushing over the cliff without thinking. I want to see the future clearly and go there directly. I want a car, a house, a mortgage payment, two kids and two cats. I want insurance and Friday dinners and family movie nights and vacations in little tiny nations nobody’s ever heard of before.



But my impulses want a private island and coconut rum drinks until 3 AM every night.

So my inner mind is wrestling with itself. It’s concerned that practicality is being thrown by the wayside. It’s concerned that logical thought is being skipped. It’s concerned that things are being built up so significantly that security controls on impulse control are going to be ignored.

Last – I’m concerned because I’m trying to be proactive rather than reactive to things in my life. It’s a mindset I’m trying to change. One of those things I know for certain is that I am, and always will be a river-dweller and be more comfortable in the realm of trees, mud, rainforest and moss than I will be in the plains. I’m concerned that the big old H and the little imp driving it are scoring this decision. I’m concerned that I shall arrive at a chosen destination and things go to hell in a hand basket – not because I’m letting things happen naturally, but because I’m FORCING them to happen unnaturally.

You may see none of this post I’ve just written. You may read the whole thing. You may well think I’m reading more into my own mindset than humans ever should. But it’s something I think about when I go to bed at night. And instead of thinking about the stories I’ve written or the blogspots I need to update…it’s this. And the thoughts that come unbidden.

Two weeks, maybe less. That’s the outlying timeframe for a ticket. I can’t just walk up to the counter and say “I’d like a ticket to the middle of the United States for under $200, please”. This takes a little planning. A little spending money. A little reservation for a car.

Eh, this may all become moot within a day or two. But I can’t shake this feeling that I NEED to make a decision. And I don’t know if I should make the decision or not.

I like making decisions. But when I come to whether I WANT to make a decision on something, I don’t like it much. Right now I don’t have to decide. I don’t have to think about it. But it’s there, and at some point I’ll have to pack a bag for a weekend and decide if I want to head to the airport, or to the beach and wait for the orcas to swim past before I go out on the sound and think while they swim around me.

What scares me is that I want to go to the airport more than I want to go to the beach.

I haven’t wanted something like this for a very long time.

Scared. Yes. I’m scared.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.