Writing about Risks

Writing about risks is hard for me.  I tend to talk all big about things and then chicken out at the last minute.  Which is how I ended up at a dive bar in Lago Vista listening to a (crappy) local country artist rather than at Moma's hanging out with an awesome band I had met the night before during SXSW 2007. Or I take the risk and it turns out badly.  Which is how I fractured my ankle freshman year (I fell off a rock wall which I had been dared to climb in my bare feet).  Risks haven't really worked out all that well for me either way. So this month's NaBloMo theme is a tough one for me.  Like today's topic, a risk that paid off.  Well I don't really know any risks that I've taken that have paid off.  At least not major ones.  I suppose that going to a college where I didn't know a soul was a risk, and that paid off big time.  I met so many amazing people in my life that I would never have met had I gone to the other school I was considering.  I suppose moving out of my former living residence three months before the (unofficial) lease was up was a risk, and it paid off, in that I now live (happily) on my own and there was no back splash from my former landlord.  I suppose those things are risks.  But I guess what holds me up is that I tend to think of risks as something that has either a good major consequence or a bad major consequence.  Not little things that have mediocre good or bad endings.