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I think I know what it is...

Yesterday, or the day before, someone asked me about my Dad. I've been thinking about him, again, ever since. I was thinking that at twentyfive, he was married. by twentyseven, he had his first child (I will be in OBC at Fort Huachuca Arizona trying to learn how to be in the Army again). By twenty-eight, he'd built a house, by thirty, he'd had me, and thirty three, Lucia. By forty-three, he'd built a second house and was finishing college.

I just read this guys blog, although I don't know who he is, and he wrote something that said what I think about quite often;

It is weird to be this same age that my parents were when they were making their impassioned decisions that so fundamentally defined my life, and to see those decisions being made from the point of view of uncertain yet well-intentioned adults. Maybe I give people too much credit. Bored, lazy, unstable... I don't know. If I had had any concept of frailty when I was a kid it wouldn't seem so astonishing to me now.

I guess I worry too much about what I'll do in the future...but I tend to overthink things. I wonder every decision I make if it's the "right" one or if I'm just fucking myself in the long run. Am I the only one who does that? It doesn't seem like other people are as constantly worried as I am. Meh...in three days, Alex will be here and we'll have a weekend of crazy-go-nuts fun to wash away the grey...