In the life of a risk taker, there’s usually a point in time when you question your next move: is it crazy or stupid? You think to yourself, “what I’m doing isn’t safe, and it’s certainly not what most people I know would do or advise upon. So why am I doing it?”
Of course the determinant in this riddle is fear. More fear makes it feel stupid, and less feels crazy. I’d say no fear makes it feel safe up to the point of pedestrian. But there’s also a danger of having such little risk that the alternative of not taking that chance is even more risky.
And of course, I’m right there, right now. Wondering if I should move to another place with no job and starting paying a high rent while I hope to god things work out.
It’s crazy because of the thrill of going somewhere much awesomer than here and getting inspired to make things happen—then doing it—and living happily ever after. It’s crazy because I’d have to convince a landlord to rent a house to an unemployed guy with a bunch of kids and bad credit, but knowing that I just might be able to pull it off.
It’s stupid because I don’t have a friggin job or even a way to make steady income. It’s stupid because I’m taking on massive payments that I can’t afford just to get to a place that “makes me feel better.” It’s stupid because I’m walking away from a house and lifestyle I fought 8 grueling years to obtain (although by now that lifestyle, that dream—null and void).
If you caught me a few years ago I’d feel excited about a chance like this to prove myself. But with age and failure being such a deadly cocktail, you can damn well bet I’ll err on the side of…