Daily Archives: November 7, 2007

choose ye: many choices, some of which matter (and are very thorny) and some of which just don’t matter at all (but you still have to choose) edition.

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(why are my fingers so short?)

Okay. We’re playing hardball now, kids.

Unless you’re ready to be covered in strawberries and whipped cream, no waffling!

(And no, I’m not actually going to cover you in strawberries and whipped cream. Give your head a shake.)

The choices we make sometimes say a lot about who we are. Sometimes they say nothing about who we are. But it’s funny — even the totally silly choices can end up dropping us into huge debates with our family and friends.

(Actually, I think it’s more interesting to note the choices we struggle with… or just don’t care about at all. And the ones we admit to, as opposed to the ones we hide.)

But today I don’t want to hear about definitions or shades of gray or your existential struggle or “I need to know context!” or qualifiers or “well, generally I think I like this, but it depends…”

Just choose.

Scary, I know.

(And one more parenthetical remark for good measure. Thank you.)

***

Coffee or tea?

PC or Mac?

Kids or no?

Political or no?

Summer or winter?

Artificial sweeteners or sugar?

Fries or salad?

Lake or ocean?

Own or rent?

Email or phone?

Traditional medical care or natural remedies?

Vegetarian (or vegan) or carnivore?

Apples or oranges?

Follow celeb culture or no?

Liberal or conservative?

Rural or urban?

Car or SUV?

Atheist or not (not includes agnostics)?

Marriage: necessary or no?

Cable or not?

Campsite or hotel?

Alcohol or no?

Up early or up late (if given the choice)?

News online or news on tv?

***

I can’t wait to read this one.

why? why so many drawings of pants?

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The looking-through-of-boxes went off without a hitch last night, though I have to say it was surreal to be reunited with strange items like my Rowlf the Dog Ceramic Piano and the now-mangled trophy I received for winning the Journalism 12 award (in grade ten.)

Sometimes it surprises me to look back and see the things I loved (a doll that smelled like oranges?), and sometimes, it makes absolute sense… because I still love those things.

What things?

Well, my Kermit the Frog with velcro flippers, my Snoopy doll with the wardrobe of clothes (including his rainwear, his baseball uniform, his surgical scrubs, and his track suit), and my “minky”: a large, fluffy monkey my Uncle Dave bought for me when I was six or seven.

Now, initially, I did not like the minky, because he was as big as my upper body and furry in a way that none of my other animals were. I believe I rejected him on sight, actually, which led to a series of follow-up gifts attempting to win back my heart (probably a bad precedent to set, but it worked out just fine for me.)

Fortunately (as with half the guys I’ve dated) I got past his weird looks and hairiness and fell utterly in love.

(With the minky, not my Uncle Dave.)

I also got to re-discover a bunch of my old elementary-age poetry and some report cards that indicated that a) I had an oddly vocal sense of humour in first grade; and b) I did not feel math was relevant to my future (grade three.)

I’ll be posting some photos of my “art” and excerpts from such fine treatises as “How To Care For a Dog” and “Lola and Lana the Christmas Mice”. Oh, and the photo of me winning the pumpkin carving contest in second grade in which the pumpkin and I are missing the same tooth.

Awesome.