Choices, Choices, Oh Choices…

April 18, 2010

When you are faced with choices, how do you make it?

The choice, I mean.

I’m the kind of person that has difficulties choosing between grilled chicken and fish and chips.

Let me elaborate… I went to lunch with two of my girlfriends. One decided she wanted sandwich, one decided she wanted grilled chicken. I had wanted grilled chicken but somehow I didn’t want to get the same thing with my friend. I decided I wanted the fish and chips. But then as the waiter came to take our orders, I had a second thought. No, I’d like grilled chicken after all.

See how bad I am at making choices?

It’s one thing to decide what you’re going to have for lunch. It’s another thing to decide what you are going to do for the rest of your life.

Whether you wanted to get a job, get a master’s degree, or marry a good-looking and rich and considerate man who exists only in Fairytale. Or get a transgender operation and change your name into Pearl or Crystal and join the gangs of she-male in Thailand.

Whatever works. *shrugged*

So here I am, 1.30 in the morning, my brain has once again declared war against sleep when my body is all for sleep.  I have tidied my room, took an IQ test (I scored 138 by the way…yay) and am writing a post on my blog and still I am not feeling sleepy. I am actually considering buying sleeping pills. Counting sheep sucks. I always lose count after a hundred or so.

Back to what I was talking about…

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh yeah…choices.

I’m not even capable of making choices regarding my lunch, so that begs the question:
How am I supposed to trust myself to make a choice regarding my future?

And I can quite let other people decide for me, either. I can ask opinions, yeah, but bottom line is I would have to make that cut.

It was beautiful back then, when your path is set. You know. Elementary school, secondary school, high school. It’s gets a bit tricky when you have to choose a university but at least then it’s still quite narrow. Now it’s…

Scary.

Yeah…

I guess it’s part of being an adult and what-not, but truth be told, I’d rather be a child forever and live in pink-colored world.

Oh wait…But then, I cannot wear stilletos or drink alcohol or– I’d better stop there, in case my father is reading (yeah, fat chance).

I’m signing off… Off to (hopefully) Dreamland. TTFN…

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