Punkass chicken or chickenass punk?

Yup. I'm a scaredy cat. So there's a job that was posted on Friday, and I didn't apply for it until just now. A good job for me. I'd been telling people that I'd already applied for it even though I hadn't. Why didn't I apply for it? Did I feel underqualified? Was I afraid of being rejected again? No. . . Actually, I think I'm afraid I'll get it. From what I can tell, it's basically the same job that I'm doing right now, it's just for a paper that will let me work 30 hours a week instead of just five. It's a small, local-type of paper that wants a reporter to produce content on the area high school teams. Exactly what I'm doing now.

Oh, and it's in Ohio.

I hate the idea of leaving Michigan for two reasons. First, Michigan is running into some serious economic and social issues because the kids who've grown up in Michigan and then graduated from Michigan colleges and universities are all leaving to get jobs in other states. It's a serious problem. I don't want to do that because this state has been good to me; it's my home.

The biggest reason I don't want to leave, though, is that all of the people who I care the most about in this world live in Michigan. Some of them I see seldom enough as it is. What happens when I add five or six hours to the drive? Maybe I've discussed this already? I'm not sure. . .

Lacing this leavingthestate fear of mine, however, is a sugary optimism that paints the new setting as the place where I will flourish and become who I've always wanted to be. I was indulging in an extended version of this fantasy (I had a book published within a year, I was a yoga instructor, I was promoted through the belt progression faster than anyone in the history of my new dojo, my phone was overloaded with new numbers, etc., etc.) when I finally sent in my application. Can't see if the fantasy will ever come true if I don't pursue it, huh?

So, I'll keep you posted.

I'm grateful for flights of fancy (20).