I’ve always been a very indecisive person. And it’s not that I don’t want to make a decision, it’s just that I’ve always looked at things from both sides. (Please know I don’t mean this in a self-righteous way because I don’t. In fact, I wish I weren’t this way every day because as soon as I make my mind up to do something, I second guess it within a day or two…sometimes within a minute or two). This is something I’ve struggled with my entire life, but I think it’s started to get worse since I began my teaching career. Every day I play the Devil’s Advocate for my students when they are learning how to write an effective argument. Over the years, I’ve encouraged students to think about both sides of assisted suicide, animal testing, affirmative action, technology in schools, universal healthcare, reduced funding of arts programs, reduced unemployment benefits, etc, etc, etc. Spending 10 months a year out of the last 4 years on the fence of these controversial issues in my professional life has truly affected me in my personal life as well. I find myself to be even more non-committal to decisions than I was before I started teaching.
My biggest issue with being indecisive is that it leaves me sitting still so often. I’ll sit around and think about a decision for hours, days, weeks. I’ll fill my journals with pages and pages of deliberation, pros and cons, and by the time I think I’ve made up my mind, the opportunity itself has passed. I find myself in the exact same place that I was before I spent hours analyzing every aspect of the decision.
This inability to make confident decisions also makes me the most obnoxious shopping partner. The grocery store is the worst. I’m unable to decide between dijon or regular mustard because honestly, they can both be appreciated for their differences. (Spicy mustard is so tangy and I like how the flavor can sometimes stay on your palate, yet yellow mustard is a classic. It is brilliant on a veggie-hotdog with a little coleslaw...) And you just can forget the cereal aisle. I could stand there for hours trying to make a choice. Restaurant menus stress me out (which is one reason why I avoided Macado’s in Boone). Usually I’ll just make a decision and then close the menu and pretend like it’s not there anymore. Otherwise, I’ll read through the choices over and over second guessing myself. And if the waiter decides to tell me about the specials, well then I’m effed.
Because of this time-suck, indecisiveness is one of the worst conditions to have while living in a capitalistic society (it’s not as bad as being completely broke of course). Companies bank on our desire to have lots of product choices, and it is this “need” (which is also viewed as a right to many people) for options that drives me crazy. It causes what Dave Barry calls “Way Too Many Product Choices Rage.” He experiences this rage while trying to decide on what type of orange juice to buy. When there are 30 different kinds of orange juice, it makes the decision difficult for some people. We can’t decide between pulp, no pulp, low pulp, calcium enriched, homestyle, grovestyle, infused with pineapple, etc, etc, etc. And until we’ve had them all, we’ll never know which one is our favorite.
The fact is that I know my time in the world is not limitless. I will continue to get older and there might be a day when I reflect back on how much precious time (and therefore life) I spent trying to decide what type of salad dressing I wanted. I will then experience “Way Too Many Product Choices Rage” on a completely different level.
Having said all this, I have discovered an incredibly stressful place for all fence-riding, Devil’s Advocate Playing, non-committal folk. It was a snake in the grass as far as OCD traps go because I wasn’t expecting to be stressed out by this particular place. It is a local ice-cream shoppe (spelled with an extra p and e for added credibility and increased sense of “shoppe-iness”). It’s this place called Feeney’s that sounded like heaven on earth when my friends would describe it; I mean it literally sounds like a section of the Candy Land board when you put it down on paper. You walk into the shoppe and there is an entire wall of soft-serve machines; they have like 10 flavors on tap. (It was kind of like ordering a beer in Boone before they started serving liquor by the drink). And you can mix any flavors that you want which sounded very appealing to me since I struggle to commit to one flavor for more than a few bites. After you pass by the wall of soft-serve, there is a fresh fruit bar where you can cover your delicious dessert with strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, bananas, kiwi, pecans, fresh coconut…I’m getting overwhelmed just thinking about it. After the fruit bar, there is a row of containers that has every topping you would ever consider putting on ice-cream. Oreos, Heath Bars, Reese’s Pieces, even Gummy Bears. Then, there is another row of toppings like chocolate syrup, dark chocolate syrup, raspberry chocolate syrup, caramel, and fresh whipped cream.
I was so excited the first time I went there. I just knew I was going to create an individualized dessert masterpiece that would put every other soft serve compilation to shame. I laugh sardonically now when I think about my excitement as I peered down the line of soft-serve taps, considering my options carefully. I was holding that empty Styrofoam bowl that was just waiting to be filled with possibility and sprinkles. I couldn’t decide between flavors, so I filled one half of my bowl with mint-chocolate soft serve, and I filled the other half with cherry-pomegranate. To keep the two flavors separate, I built a wall of kiwis and strawberries in between them. I was going to keep it simple and just eat the ice cream and the fruit, but there were about 10 people in line in front of me getting toppings, so I stood there waiting and looking at all of my options. And before I knew it, I had crushed Oreos and marshmallows on top of the mint-chocolate side, and coconut and dark chocolate syrup on top of the cherry-pomegranate side. Of course, I second guessed my decision as soon as I made it and I wished that I could put the toppings back, but I was stuck with the decision I had made. And I was also stuck behind 10 other people trying to make up their minds about their own toppings.
I watched as everyone in front of me carefully considered their options. And I watched while my soft serve kept getting softer and softer. The mint chocolate began to melt and creep under the kiwi-strawberry wall all Alex Mack (post-freak chemical accident) style. The cherry-pomegranate side was melting under the heat of the chocolate syrup and I watched as my ice cream tragically swirled into a grey, muddled cluster of gross. I wanted to start eating it right away to salvage what I could, but Feeney’s charges you for the ice cream by its weight, so anything you eat before you pay is technically stolen. (And stealing ice cream seems like it could do some serious damage to your karma). By the time the line moved to the register, my ice cream combination looked like barf. I ate about three bites and threw the rest of it away.
I’ve been back to Feeney’s since this first experience, and I’ve figured out a system that keeps me from experiencing Way Too Many Toppings Choice Rage so I can actually enjoy the soft serve like a good little chubby person. I only allow myself to choose flavors that have great synergy (ex: chocolate and vanilla = mixable; chocolate and orange sherbet = suspect). I also only allow myself to get toppings off the fruit bar; fruit mixes well and it doesn’t promote or fall prey to melting. Following this strict code of conduct, (and nonchalantly breaking a few people who were taking their sweet time along the toppings wall) I was able to enjoy a visit to Feeney’s this weekend.
Despite the (slightly acute) neurotic methods I’ve had to adopt, I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only person that struggles with this type of stagnating indecisiveness. And I also can’t help but imagine a world with fewer ice cream flavors and orange juice blends. I wonder what I would think about if I spent less time thinking about my options.
My biggest issue with being indecisive is that it leaves me sitting still so often. I’ll sit around and think about a decision for hours, days, weeks. I’ll fill my journals with pages and pages of deliberation, pros and cons, and by the time I think I’ve made up my mind, the opportunity itself has passed. I find myself in the exact same place that I was before I spent hours analyzing every aspect of the decision.
This inability to make confident decisions also makes me the most obnoxious shopping partner. The grocery store is the worst. I’m unable to decide between dijon or regular mustard because honestly, they can both be appreciated for their differences. (Spicy mustard is so tangy and I like how the flavor can sometimes stay on your palate, yet yellow mustard is a classic. It is brilliant on a veggie-hotdog with a little coleslaw...) And you just can forget the cereal aisle. I could stand there for hours trying to make a choice. Restaurant menus stress me out (which is one reason why I avoided Macado’s in Boone). Usually I’ll just make a decision and then close the menu and pretend like it’s not there anymore. Otherwise, I’ll read through the choices over and over second guessing myself. And if the waiter decides to tell me about the specials, well then I’m effed.
Because of this time-suck, indecisiveness is one of the worst conditions to have while living in a capitalistic society (it’s not as bad as being completely broke of course). Companies bank on our desire to have lots of product choices, and it is this “need” (which is also viewed as a right to many people) for options that drives me crazy. It causes what Dave Barry calls “Way Too Many Product Choices Rage.” He experiences this rage while trying to decide on what type of orange juice to buy. When there are 30 different kinds of orange juice, it makes the decision difficult for some people. We can’t decide between pulp, no pulp, low pulp, calcium enriched, homestyle, grovestyle, infused with pineapple, etc, etc, etc. And until we’ve had them all, we’ll never know which one is our favorite.
The fact is that I know my time in the world is not limitless. I will continue to get older and there might be a day when I reflect back on how much precious time (and therefore life) I spent trying to decide what type of salad dressing I wanted. I will then experience “Way Too Many Product Choices Rage” on a completely different level.
Having said all this, I have discovered an incredibly stressful place for all fence-riding, Devil’s Advocate Playing, non-committal folk. It was a snake in the grass as far as OCD traps go because I wasn’t expecting to be stressed out by this particular place. It is a local ice-cream shoppe (spelled with an extra p and e for added credibility and increased sense of “shoppe-iness”). It’s this place called Feeney’s that sounded like heaven on earth when my friends would describe it; I mean it literally sounds like a section of the Candy Land board when you put it down on paper. You walk into the shoppe and there is an entire wall of soft-serve machines; they have like 10 flavors on tap. (It was kind of like ordering a beer in Boone before they started serving liquor by the drink). And you can mix any flavors that you want which sounded very appealing to me since I struggle to commit to one flavor for more than a few bites. After you pass by the wall of soft-serve, there is a fresh fruit bar where you can cover your delicious dessert with strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, bananas, kiwi, pecans, fresh coconut…I’m getting overwhelmed just thinking about it. After the fruit bar, there is a row of containers that has every topping you would ever consider putting on ice-cream. Oreos, Heath Bars, Reese’s Pieces, even Gummy Bears. Then, there is another row of toppings like chocolate syrup, dark chocolate syrup, raspberry chocolate syrup, caramel, and fresh whipped cream.
I was so excited the first time I went there. I just knew I was going to create an individualized dessert masterpiece that would put every other soft serve compilation to shame. I laugh sardonically now when I think about my excitement as I peered down the line of soft-serve taps, considering my options carefully. I was holding that empty Styrofoam bowl that was just waiting to be filled with possibility and sprinkles. I couldn’t decide between flavors, so I filled one half of my bowl with mint-chocolate soft serve, and I filled the other half with cherry-pomegranate. To keep the two flavors separate, I built a wall of kiwis and strawberries in between them. I was going to keep it simple and just eat the ice cream and the fruit, but there were about 10 people in line in front of me getting toppings, so I stood there waiting and looking at all of my options. And before I knew it, I had crushed Oreos and marshmallows on top of the mint-chocolate side, and coconut and dark chocolate syrup on top of the cherry-pomegranate side. Of course, I second guessed my decision as soon as I made it and I wished that I could put the toppings back, but I was stuck with the decision I had made. And I was also stuck behind 10 other people trying to make up their minds about their own toppings.
I watched as everyone in front of me carefully considered their options. And I watched while my soft serve kept getting softer and softer. The mint chocolate began to melt and creep under the kiwi-strawberry wall all Alex Mack (post-freak chemical accident) style. The cherry-pomegranate side was melting under the heat of the chocolate syrup and I watched as my ice cream tragically swirled into a grey, muddled cluster of gross. I wanted to start eating it right away to salvage what I could, but Feeney’s charges you for the ice cream by its weight, so anything you eat before you pay is technically stolen. (And stealing ice cream seems like it could do some serious damage to your karma). By the time the line moved to the register, my ice cream combination looked like barf. I ate about three bites and threw the rest of it away.
I’ve been back to Feeney’s since this first experience, and I’ve figured out a system that keeps me from experiencing Way Too Many Toppings Choice Rage so I can actually enjoy the soft serve like a good little chubby person. I only allow myself to choose flavors that have great synergy (ex: chocolate and vanilla = mixable; chocolate and orange sherbet = suspect). I also only allow myself to get toppings off the fruit bar; fruit mixes well and it doesn’t promote or fall prey to melting. Following this strict code of conduct, (and nonchalantly breaking a few people who were taking their sweet time along the toppings wall) I was able to enjoy a visit to Feeney’s this weekend.
Despite the (slightly acute) neurotic methods I’ve had to adopt, I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only person that struggles with this type of stagnating indecisiveness. And I also can’t help but imagine a world with fewer ice cream flavors and orange juice blends. I wonder what I would think about if I spent less time thinking about my options.
Staggering indecisiveness. Yes indeed it is this way. My uncle says that the twenties are like this, so much potential. That is the life stage that many of us are in now. We could do so much...big choices and small ones too.
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