Tuesday, June 03, 2008


The thing about decisions is that there's no one to tell you whether they're right.

At work, it seems so much easier. You are or have or pay an expert to inform you about the recommended course of action. You have requirements to deliver on or some sort of goal with specific measurable outcomes that you're meant to achieve.


Personal decisions are the tough ones. At least for me. Maybe it's that I don't trust myself as the "expert" in my life. Maybe I haven't done enough research to verify that a decision is the right one. And then there are those pesky "externals" to consider: like emotions.

So then panic ensues and suddenly you're writing blogs when you should be going to sleep. At least I can smile about it. And I know that, given time, I will be fine. It will become no big deal. Because I've always already made the decision. And I know the decision to be the right one. But I'm just not yet comfortable with it. Because I have no one to tell me, "Ya, right on, that is such a kick ass decision, you frickin' STAR!" And so I just have to live with the panicky feeling for a bit and it will all be fine.

Is this why people get married? So they can have that person to reassure them that they're doing the right thing? That they're not screwing everything up?

I mean, cavemen didn't marry. And let's face it, they were working on instinct a lot more than using those overgrown noggins for any big decisions. Lucky them. Not about the marriage bit, but about the decisions.

I guess that's what it is to be an adult. You just stand on your own and just say "ya" or "no" and then something happens. You sign on a dotted line or not and a whole cacophony of action is kicked into motion. Weird how that happens. Wish they would have asked me if I was ready to start making decisions. I might have said "sure" to deciding on Thai for dinner but declined the more intricate cacophony-mobilizing stuff.

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