Post-undergrad Purgatory

I have gone so far astray from my initial post-college plans it baffles me. By now I pictured myself living in a small apartment in southern California, doing something written word-related for some respectable publication or firm, waiting for my graduate classes to start. Instead I am still living in my mother’s dismal basement, absolutely clueless as to what I should do with the rest of my life.
I know I am only 23, but my 20s have already been whirling past me, leaving a jumbled heap of fading memories somewhere in the back of my mind. Youth cannot last forever, and I sometimes worry that the youth I still am lucky to attain is being wasted. I hate to lament, but sometimes it feels plain good to look at the downsides of my life and try and reflect on how I can bring some excitement back into it, rather than letting the ugly emotions build up in my consciousness and filling me with an unspoken self-resentment.
For better and mostly for worse, I have had to come to terms with my natural thrill seeking personality, a character defect most certainly imbued in my DNA from my father’s side of the family. This trait has led me to make some risky but nonetheless important decisions in my life. Going across the country for school, quitting cigarettes cold turkey, following my path in writing in opposition to the herd taking business classes with the hopes of future job security (I still am glad I pursued that path, but a couple more months of this bullshit and I just might be feeling a shred of regret over that one). But this trait has also put me in some regrettable situations. Drugs, weekend long binges, some sexual mishaps, the usual stuff.
I have been encouraged my a number of people I care about to just pack my car up and head to where I want to be, and let the cards fall into place. I think it’s because I now am in total tune with my self that I know this decision could be both liberating and foolish. A year ago it wouldn’t have taken me a moment’s hesitation to cruise down the highway with nothing but my thoughts and the radio with some dream destination in mind. But now, I feel apprehensive. What if I don’t get a job? What if I can’t find a place to live? Who do I know that will be there?
What does it take to stop moping about and actually set forth towards making something of your life? I feel as if I’m in some sort of transitional purgatory, trapped in between two distinct lives. How long can this last?