Moving, for the sake of motion.

As if by some cosmological twist of what some people refer to as "fate", it would appear that all signs point me back to Las Vegas. Ok, let me rephrase that. Everything is pointing me to move back to Vegas...sooner than I had originally planned. Typical Fabian. I have a knack for making the most eloquent and sophisticated of plans, and life has this knack for not giving a fuck and flipping the script on me. Almost as if I'm a child; building grandiose sand sculptures...only to have someone come kick it all down and tell me I should probably be looking for buried treasure instead. My original plan was to stay firmly planted in the state of Utah until late spring, giving myself enough time to amass a large amount of currency to be able to financially support myself if I were to have found myself jobless. Certain things have transpired recently, however, which are forcing me to abandon aforementioned plan and come up with Plan B: "Move back to Vegas at the end of the month." Part of me is super stoked to be moving back. Back to a place where the majority of things make sense to me. Where people are more diverse; and with said diversity, tend to be a tad bit more open-minded and to put it bluntly, more interesting. Utah people are about as exciting as American cheese and bologna on Wonder bread with mayo. I'm more of an "oven-roasted turkey breast and havarti/gouda cheese on freshly baked honey wheat bread, with a chipotle aoli" kind of guy, if you catch my drift. (The fact that I just turned my analogy of people into sandwiches is enough to attest to that) I'm moving back to a place where things don't close at 10pm. Where there is always some sort of late night adventure, just waiting to be explored. I'll also be about an hour away from my parents, which I know my mom is thrilled about. All these things aside, I'm also nervous. The move feels premature. I had chiseled it into my cranium that I would move at the end of the spring, so now I'm subconsciously worrying about my monetary situation. So what's making me change my plan, you may be wondering? My roommate Alex got the green light to transfer to the Las Vegas branch of the restaurant he works for, and he's been reluctantly staying in Utah for the past 2 years, so you could imagine his joy at the news of being able to transfer ASAP. With that said, he sure as shit wasn't moving by himself, and he's not really the kind of dude to just move in with a random roommate, so naturally I was hounded by him to move as well. I thought about it for a couple of days. Arduously. Nothing is really holding me to this state, so it really wouldn't make sense for me to stay any longer than I need to. I got the okay to transfer to an Outback out there as well, but I still can't shake this feeling of anxiety. I don't want to move and after all of my apartment fees are settled, be left with little to nothing. I've been a fuck up my entire life. Arguably by choice. Sure, I've gotten into some awesome shenanigans and met a grip of wonderful people, but I'm tired of doing things the wrong way. I'm 23 years old and I need to grow up and be a grown up. This move will make me or break me. My resolve's been tested more times than I can care to count, but I feel this trial is big. My life's on the line here, in a way. I've noticed I have this trend of saying that the universe will tend to unfold itself as it should. I solemnly believe that. However, I'm done just leaving it up to "fate" to decide my...well...fate. A man makes his own luck, and I'll be damned if I let my second shot at Vegas fail. Vegas, I hope you're ready for round two. I'm coming for your throat.