I’ve spent entirely too much time trying to identify my favorite food. Is it sushi? Fresh apple cider? Can I count cider as a food? Smoked salmon benedict? Anything with goat cheese? Maybe it’s freshly baked bread. Fall-off-the-bone BBQ ribs. Maybe sweet potato masala. There are so many choices. How does a person just have the capacity to say just one thing? Pringles. I love Pringles. Next question. Unless it’s german chocolate cake.
Same goes for my favorite color. I feel like I should have a favorite. Should I have a favorite? I mean, for the longest time I proudly proclaimed red as my favorite color. Vibrant crimson. Then, somehow I turned to orange as my color of choice. These days, I think it’s turquoise? Maybe a mossy green? You ask my daughter, and she says without hesitation, “Cerulean blue.” Zero pause. Just, bam! Answer!
Holy cow. Now that I’m writing this, it’s got me thinking about the tattoo I still haven’t gotten. I haven’t been able to pick just one. Years have been wasted, tattoo-less, struggling over which one is the right one. A Shel Silverstein illustration? A snapdragon? Perhaps a cape buffalo? Maybe a lotus, or a phoenix. God. What if I started considering quotes?
It’s ridiculous. I know. Just pick one. There’s not a right one, or a wrong one. I guess this sort of hearkens back to the idea of compliments. It’s not a bomb I’m trying to … I’m blanking on the word. I want to say deflate, but that’s a balloon. Diffuse! Diffuse? I think that’s it.
It boils down to this…perfectionism. Or maybe it’s overthinking. OH GOD. Are they different? Should I pick one? For FUCK’S sake. I need to throw myself into my gray area. Start making decisions haphazardly. I mean, I’ve spent a lifetime haphazardly avoiding decisions, so it might be worth it to try the opposite, yeah? I’d rather take steps down the wrong path and figure it out as I go than to stay rooted in the same spot and go nowhere.