Whatifs

Shel Silverstein's poem "Whatif" says it best:

"Last night, while I lay thinking here
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:"

The Whatifs in my head must be on Bourbon Street in New Orleans because it is a constant party of questions:

Whatif six more months go by, and I still don't have a full-time job? Whatif I get do get a job, but it is not what I want to do? Whatif I need to commute? Whatif I move because the commute is too long? Whatif my relationship doesn't survive long-distance? Whatif I miss my family? Whatif I am forced to quit my part-time job? Whatif my car breaks down and I don't have the money to buy a new one? Whatif I live in the city and don't need a car? Whatif I stress myself out thinking about these things, for no reason at all?

I am the type of person who likes having order in my personal life (in the professional world I know that things can switch gears in seconds). I like to plan things before I take action and if the agenda starts to change, my blood pressure rises. What kills me right now is that, at 22 years-old, I cannot figure out any solid plans for where my life is going. The only solid element to my life is the roof over my head--my parent's roof no less.

My future is kind of like dominoes, one thing cannot fall into place, without another preceding it. I would love to move into my own apartment in the city. However, before I can do that, I need to buy a reliable car to get me to the city which means I need to build up a savings account, in order to build a savings account, I need to be working in a full-time position. Finally, for me to be a full-time employee, a company needs to hire me, which also requires them to see my qualifications and potential.

I know things will happen eventually. I need to be patient and remind myself that life cannot be planned. Life is not about the Whatifs, but all about the Whatares.