Deciding on anything
A long time ago, in a world very far away from the one that I live in… People were capable of making decisions. Yes. Decisions. They made them. They stuck by them. They changed the course of their entire lives because of them. I hear your teeth clenching, how? how did they tame the mythical beast we know today as the cluster fuck? I tell you, as a resident of planet chronically indecisive, I do not know. I DO NOT KNOW.
Now, the horny alternative to the cars of old. The spirit of Scotland. The grizzly nightmare of Hanzel & Gretel-esque tales is an ever present reality… The Unicorn. I see it everywhere. H&M sell a tape dispenser in a glittery pink form of it, my flatmate has a onesie and a giant mug of it… hot chocolate unicorn flavoured powder and fruit loops covered with them dancing on the packet. Scorching my eyes with it’s impossible, possible-ness. BUT CAN I MAKE A DECISION?
No.
It is the elusivity of the damn thing that makes it so magical. I assume I must make decisions on a regular basis. I dress myself, I wake up at a time, I brush my teeth, I eat (usually) and make decisions all the time. Unconsciously. Ambling through my day. But when it comes to a ‘woke’ decision to be made. What to do with my life?
No.
How to do it?
Impossible.
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When to start?
As soon as a Unicorn is on the side of an Oatly packet of rainbow flavoured oat milk. I’m not sure when but I am sure this will happen. (Kudos to Oatly — they make great oat milk)
The point eludes me.
So I started a blog. Welcome dear reader. I’m not sure why I’m here or you.
Love,
Rose…
;
P.S. not to leave you with nothing
