I hesitate. My writing never hesitates so much as when I write this blog. At work, it is the reporting of facts, though sometimes I employ my sound judgment. But at home, in the uneasy comfort of my blogger page, I hesitate. And in that minute second, I lose my creativity, my inner muse. After all, what is creative writing if not the instantaneous discharge of thoughts through fingers?
So, what is the hesitation for, you ask? Perhaps it is fear, maybe a little insecurity. Fear of being too vulnerable, of this information falling into the wrong hands (as in someone who might know me).
How is it that millions of people leap over that fear and blog on the worldwide web? Is it a new-age desire to be different, to be overheard? Or is it simply the age-old need to be understood?
Well, let me make the leap and try to say what’s on my mind (without endangering myself, at the same time).
I will admit it: I am on lavalife. Perhaps this seems a funny confession to make, maybe because it’s quite common now to use online services or maybe because you’re on it yourself. But then I will also admit that I’d rather not have to go on it. I think it’s sad that we’ve so lost our sense of community that we must post our best eyecatching pictures and write a shallow snippet of our life’s tale, then present it to the world as though we were a book on the shelves of Chapter’s, trying to get attention because of our quality, but ending up only getting noticed for our marketable ‘skills.’
It contrasts sharply with life in a small town where there’s a limited pool of prospects. But you know that choices are limited when you live in a small town and you quickly learn of those in the community with similar interests or those you are attracted to. Knowing beforehand what you do, you decide what you are willing to compromise.
You are far more likely to end up happy because you’ve seen the outer stretches of possibility and decided what was worth compromising for. In the big city, possibilities at time seem endless. I know I came to the big city with my eyes wide at the idea that anything I wanted, I could find it here.
The Internet is even worse. It opens up floodgates of possibility, though it doesn't always deliver.
You soon realize how many are duds. And you can’t help but sigh, exasperated at the possibility that you might end up with one of those duds.
Then you wonder, where have all the dudes gone? And if they’re out there, why can’t I have one? Am I not pretty enough, smart enough, interesting enough? And then you remember, dammit, their choices are unlimited too.
And so those men hesitate and hold off. And we do the same. It’s not a game. It’s just the idea that something better might come along. We know what we’re doing. We’ve probably even read Paradox of Choice (or at least enough chapters to know too much choice is bad), and yet we continue, perhaps until we can wait no more. And then we settle for the latest and (possibly not so) greatest person we happen upon.
I’m not sure how much I’m ready to settle. And I’m not saying I’m giving up or giving in or even that I believe all the skeptical things I’m saying. I hope they’re not true.
Less than a year ago, I worried endlessly (needlessly?) that I would never end up in a job I love, or even come remotely close. And part of that was worrying about my inability to choose a career, to move forward in it.
Perhaps all one needs is the resolution to dive in, and hope you get lucky. I’ve been lucky in job, so I'm hoping I’ll get lucky in love too.
