I've recently come to the conclusion that when all is said and done, going to Kansas was one of the best things that's happened to me in a long time. And it has nothing to do with what I was doing there (that's just good for some war stories many years from now) but how it made me put things into perspective.

While in Kansas, I made the decision that that was it, I was going to stop renting and stop waiting for life to start and buy a place. And now I am the proud owner (with the credit union) of The Condo That Rummy Bought With the Kitchen that Saddam Built. It's a lovely place, with a Big Red Chair and everything.

But the real benefit was the epiphany I had when I came back. After one small breakdown on the airspace over Missouri, I started to ask myself -- just what the hell is it you're so scared of? This could be applied to many situations, even ones where it wouldn't on the surface seem to make sense. For a short time, it even applied to my fear of heights, although now, not so much.

The most recent example came yesterday -- we had an unexpected snowstorm where the roads iced out and I had driven to work. Now normally, on the hint of snow I would have left the car at home, taken the bus or else abandoned the car at work, taken the bus home and picked up my car tomorrow. But I decided to drive home. Now in the past when I have done this, I'm in such a state of panic that I'm almost hysterical behind the wheel. Yesterday -- I kept thinking "what's the worst that can happen? I get spun out, stuck or my car has a fender bender. I can safely get out of my car, someone will help me and it will just ruin the afternoon." I was very calm on the way home, even grooved out to the tunes on the radio. Last year, I had the same realization when I drove up to New York for Christmas -- if something happened on the New Jersey Turnpike, I could pull over. I was in the United States -- I could wait, someone would come and eventually I'd get home. I wouldn't have to sit there, weapon drawn waiting for a couple of trucks with lots of big burly armed men to either come rescue me or kill me.

It's helped a lot recently -- there are more and more times that I ask myself "what are you so afraid of and what's the worst that can happen?" And usually the answer is that I can't think of anything really awful or awful enough to keep me in a state of paralysis. "It doesn't go so well" is usually it. So now I'm either really a menace or a lot more fun. Or both.

Life is short, fleeting, and can turn on a dime. Make the most of it, and don't worry about the small stuff. The big stuff will bite you in the ass, but the rest? Fuck it. Be grateful to have been born when and where you were. We really don't realize just how lucky we are.

Whoa. Heavy, man. I promise that the next rant shall indeed be trivial.