15 tank-tops may give you peace of mind, but they won't solve your problems.

Ladies and gentlemen, the road trip is officially about to begin. We spent a weekend in Lake Tahoe with my parents, and have now given ourselves one day to assemble all necessary items for 2 months on the road before heading off to Yosemite, the first stop on the itinerary.

That one day of preparation is today, and I'm sitting here staring at the Blogger logo instead of sorting laundry, organizing camping gear, working out the budget, researching routes, buying last minute gadgets, or even taking a shower.

The thing is, I hate packing. Packing for a 3-day trip can take me up to 12 solid hours, and I've never even traveled for longer than 2 weeks at a time. I've moved across the world more than once, but going somewhere to live, somewhere with drawers and cabinets and a feeling of permanence, is an entirely different thing. Jordi has lived like a turtle with his home on his back for a number of months on several different occasions. I, however, still have the tags on my big North Face backpack.

When I moved back from Amsterdam, I had a total of 5 bags--2 suitcases, 2 duffel bags, 1 backpack--and the airline charged me an extra $100 to get them all on the plane. This was after throwing out or giving away piles and piles of stuff, and I was only there for one year. In the midst of that disaster, I decided to simplify my life and just have less crap.

This road trip is my chance to prove that I can. Jordi keeps telling me I just don't need very much, but this is coming from the guy who's wardrobe consists of 6 t-shirts and 2 hoodies. I see how stress-free his packing process is, and I try to channel some of that minimalist energy, but I know I'll never be able to match his level of freedom and flexibility when it comes to material goods.

The problem, as with most things in my overly considered world, is that I can't handle the decisions. You essentially have to see into the future, predict what scenarios might possibly befall you, and make sure you're prepared. I, however, have an overactive imagination and an inhuman ability to worry about things most people don't even think about. I imagine weirdly specific and unlikely scenarios, and then somehow decide that bringing 15 tank-tops is the best way to prepare for them. Not surprisingly, all this leaves me with is a big tangle of semi-soiled spaghetti straps and more weight than I ought to be hauling around. But I continue to bring too many of everything because I just can't stand the prospect of being unprepared.

They say you should stack up everything that you want to bring, and then bring half of it. This, I may be able to do. I just wish I could also leave behind the half of my brain that is illogical, irrational, and convinces me to pack my entire summer wardrobe for a fall trip to the Pacific Northwest.

Wish me luck.

Eeny meeny miny mo

So the current happenings in my life are... um, let's see... mostly just trying to figure out WHAT THE HELL TO DO WITH IT. I spent a shiftless year in Europe, my greatest ambitions to maintain sanity while two heart-stealing little boys (or vampires, if you'd rather) sucked all the energy right out of me, and to see as many different places as I could cram into 3-day weekends.

Now I have a 2-3 month road trip with a foreigner planned (more on that later) around this vast, American wonderland we call the wild, wild West. After that, your guess is as good as mine. It'll either be more travel (possibly funded by teaching English to eager learners on a continent I have yet to explore) grad school (should I be foolish enough to undertake the application process while on the road), or moving to San Francisco or New York and knocking on doors until some merciful soul hires me.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, are the options I've laid out before me. The first step is to choose one, then narrow things down within that vague selection, then figure out how to make something work. Sounds easy! Now, where do I begin...?

Oh right, I have no clue. 

This is where you come in, my older and much wiser (or is it wiser and much older?) readers. I'm not shy to admit that I'm currently floundering in a rough sea of possibilities, so I've certainly had advice dumped on me before by those who will listen to my wretched 23-year-old woes. Most people just smile and shake their head at me, fondly recalling that happy-go-lucky time when they had nothing but freedom and a rusty volkswagen.

They say, "Don't worry! Follow your heart and the right opportunity will present itself in good time. You just have to make sure you take it." Then I nod and breathe a sigh of relief before I go home and make myself blind and dizzy sitting in front of the dim computer screen scrolling through ten million job postings, university websites, and volunteer abroad programs waiting for the "right opportunity" to present itself. Then, my brain explodes. This has happened more times than I can count. Apparently, the internet does not have all the answers. Maybe I should try searching 'my soul' on Google or Wikipedia.

So what I'm wondering is this: how did you all come to decisions back when the world was your proverbial oyster? The way everyone else talks about it, you'd think they rolled through life without any stress at all over what to do next, where to go, or who to go there with. "Oh, I moved here, then got this job, then we met, then we went here, then we traveled, then we got married, then he got this job, then I got my masters here, then we moved..." Were things actually simpler back then? Or do people just tend to forget how hard it was to decide (and agree on) all that stuff?

If you have a nugget of wisdom you'd like share with me, please leave a comment. I promise, anything would be appreciated. Maybe you want to tell me to get a grip and be a grown up and stop dicking around on Blogger when I could be doing something productive. If so, that's fine too. I'll take anything.