[Insert lengthy apology and convoluted reasons as to why I have not written in over a month and token gesture of thinking about writing more often]
Naturally most of who I am today has been shaped by my experiences in the past. The way I think about things, the way I approach problems, or the way I react to various stimuli are also things I'm pretty sure can be explained away by my awkward childhood and the high amount of fluoride in Naperville Municipal water.
My standard tactic, when approached with some sort of problem, is to make well-intentioned plans that never come to fruition and rely on the tried and true method of "hoping for the best". Examples of this can be found here and here in this here blog, among other places on the internet and darker corners of the universe. This is all largely because, while I have a big need to feel well-prepared, in reality I'm a huge wimp.
I don't like pain, physical or emotional, so whenever something stressful presents itself in my life I will do everything in my power to make sure there's very little chance I'll actually have to deal with it. Hence, the "hoping for the best". Currently this has manifested itself in my lackadaisical approach in finding a Real Job and a few solid months of internal hang-wringing (and much external whining to Poncho--sorry buddy) over whether my relationship with The Boy will stand the test of college graduation and the subsequent search for purpose.
Because I do like to have a contingency plan in the event of an emergency (like being forced to talk about the future), I've imagined dozens of conversations and scenarios where all I can ever conclude is that The Boy will break up with me on the spot just for bringing it up. Therefore I've found it prudent to keep my big yap shut and just, well, wait and see.
The waiting is killing me a bit, but enough time has passed that I"m nearing the point of "seeing", so my inaction, in retrospect, seems much less cowardly and far more prudent and wise.