My Gateway Drug

This year the International Juggling Association held its annual festival in a place relatively close to me. Furthermore, it was a place which held a special place in my heart. 

It was held at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. The first place that I went for college. The place where I learned to juggle. 

But, you know. Life. And money. And other such excuses that are perfectly valid and acceptable because I am a “responsible adult” now. I cannot just run off on random adventures, just because they seem neat.

And as I wrote that, some little voice in the back of my head asked, “who are you, and what have you done with Owen?”

Because that is exactly what I used to do. Even though I always would encourage adventures long before I started juggling, it was not until I took up three object razzmatazz that I really hit my stride. It is not so much that juggling opened the door to my adventures. It is more along the lines that juggling helped me to recognize that there are many doors. Many opportunities. And if I kept my eyes open, if I was willing to take chances and rely on skill and luck, entropy and optimism to get me through … well, I would have some stories to tell.

And I didn’t go because I was being responsible? Bull! If I had tried, I could have found a way! I could have found someone to watch my cat, Eli. I could have balanced my budget to allow for the trip. I could have gone to the convention and learned a bunch of new tricks and visited my old stomping grounds and come back a better juggler.

I am going next year.

I want to go to the North American Unicycling Championships and Convention, too. And I would love to go to some sort of banjo convention so that I could improve my skills there. But I probably cannot afford to do all of those things. That is a lot of time off of work. And a lot of travel. 

One step at a time.  

I shall work this out and plan accordingly. 


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