It's What You Get for Scratching

I feel like I live my life like most people. I get up every morning and try to make it to work on time. I stay [mostly] diligent during the day and get my work done. I eat well, I work out, I don't overspend on things I don't need. I get the recommended hours of sleep per night for a guy my age. I feel like everything that I do is being done by most people my age in my same situation.

We're getting through.

But lately? It's getting harder to just get through. I'm feeling the onset of what I've come to regard as the 2-year Itch.

Let me give you some background...

When I was younger, I played soccer. I played for two seasons and got an Itch. So on I moved to Karate. I did that for one year, got right up to Brown Belt (about a month before I would've hit Black Belt) and got an Itch. And quit. On I went to singing and dancing. Did that for three years. Got an Itch. Started doing competitive Ballroom. Did that for a few years. Got an Itch. Went to college to study pre-Med. Got an Itch. Switched colleges to become a dance major. Got an Itch. Took a job teaching arts to kids. Got an Itch. Tried to start a magazine. Got broke... which is different, but the Itch would've happened eventually. Moved to downtown SLC to just live and be free! Got an Itch...

Are you seeing the trend?

That last time, the itch was SO bad that I decided to pick up my entire existence and move to England. I'm not exaggerating - on Monday I thought "I should try being a nanny overseas" and by Friday I had accepted a job working on the British coast as an Au Pair.

We all know that didn't really work out, but it ended up being the best thing that's ever happened to me because it landed me here in New York City.

And I LOVE NEW YORK CITY!

But it's been about a year and a half. And as if Fate has me living in a revolving door -- I'm getting an Itch.

I don't mean to complain. I have a great life with great friends. I see great theater and dance and movies. I vacation all over the world (Is it time to go to Italy yet???) and have a summer share in a gorgeous house one block from the beach on Fire Island.

Life. Is. Good.

But I'm itchy, friends. And it's really becoming prominent in my daily processes.

I spent two hours the other day looking for somewhere new to live. Do I want to move? No. I like my roomie, and I like my space. But I was Itching and thought maybe that scratch could help. All it really ended up doing for me is making me wish I made more money -- which lead me to another Itchy spot.

I like my job. It's not super-fulfilling and it's definitely not what I thought I would be doing with my life. But it pays well. And I like my boss. And I like the people that I work with. AND IT PAYS WELL. And now it's making me Itchy... Am I getting complacent? Will I hide from my dreams behind my bank account, which for the first time in my life is never in default?

"HELL NO!" I scream. "I WILL NOT SETTLE!"

And my Itch laughs... "What will you do? Which of your dreams do you pursue next? What will you be naive and stupid enough to sacrifice all you've got to try your hand at?!"

And it's here my friends that my Itch begins to become my Wound.

So okay. My life's not exactly how I had pictured. There are things that I need to change.

But I've got time, right? I can still pick a direction, a goal, a different apartment, or a life-long dream in a year.

When something has changed.

When it's easier.

Fuck.