Sailing

I'm in Chicago. There is a festival nearby here in Lincoln Park, I hear music and the dull din of a crowd. People drinking, dancing. Having fun. A part of me wishes to be a part of it, but then I realize that I never have fun at those things. I don't care about music enough to go to loud festivals and I don't like people enough to carry on a conversation with strangers. I realize that drinking is dulling me, is making me less capable. 

I say this even as I'm about to dip into my bottle of whiskey.  

At what point is enough enough? At what point do I wake up and say, it's time. Time to get my shit together and not in any other way but my own. I don't want to be the wild, rebellious, loud, outspoken girl anymore. I feel like that's not really me. Does that mean I've changed or does that mean I've been trying to be someone I'm not? Or is this what growing up feels like?

I do know that sailing is the answer to it all, to all of my dreams. I want to sail around the world. I am not sure how I'll make that happen, but I know it's something that I want. I want it bad. My own boat, eventually. I don't even know how to sail and I want my own boat, like now. 

I guess for now I will press on, looking for a boat to work on for the next month and a half. 

I wish my plans to join the Hawaiian Chieftain hadn't fallen through. Shit, or the following replacement plan, either. I feel like I'm sitting here with the rug yanked out from under me and now I'm scrambling. Quite unpleasant. Especially being nearly dead broke. 

Sigh.