Reckless

There are times when anything is better than sanity. Times like now.

For years I did as conventional wisdom said:

1. Be a good girl.
2. Be coy but inviting to the opposite sex.
3. Don't get married too young.
4. Go to college.
5. Get a respectable degree.
6. Get a good job with a steady paycheck and benefits.
7. Buy a reliable car.
8. Save for the future.

That has gotten me:

1. A rather boring life.
2. No idea how to flirt or date.
3. Lifelong spinsterhood.
4. Educated without much partying.
5. A paper touting my now-obsolete journalism degree.
6. A traditional, boring job that fell apart the moment I got sick.
7. A decent car that I'd much rather sell.
8. In debt.

No, my life isn't bad, horrible, or utterly devastating. But neither am I complete. A whole, fulfilled individual without residual questions or what-ifs floating through the air taunting me as I try to sleep.

And so, my friends, I propose this: I will embezzle imprudence from all of the lively, fun, adventurous, and slightly crazy people I've always wanted to become. I'll take a bit of reckless courage from the rock climber. Some bravada from the loungers on nude beaches. Small helpings of willful disregard for rules from schemers. More than a touch of zen from pot-smoking liberals. All of these little pieces, I'll add to my burgeoning courage to be the person I've always longed to be.

You may worry that with such examples, I'll be dancing too close to danger. Don't worry. I'm old enough to not be stupid and completely reckless. I'm also old enough to know that a life half lived is no life at all.

Many things have aggregated my growing discontent with the status quo, the way it's "supposed to be." I'll share some of those, as well as document my irresponsible actions as I throw a comfortable, convenient, and safe life away. Safety is another way of saying you've given into fear. I'm tired of being safe.