Wednesday, August 22, 2012


The other night I came to a major life decision, which for once was more than just figuring out whether to get Wendy's or Burger King for dinner. It was (as most major decisions are) a very tough decision, and I pondered over it for quite a while. There were only three options available in this decision, and all three of them had some major drawbacks. The options aren't really important, and the decision probably isn't either, but it was my decision, and I suppose I shall have to stick with it.

The actual decision, and the reasons behind it need not overly concern us here, nor should the other two options detain us overlong. The outcome of all this mighty struggle is that, after two years of trying, I am going to become laconic, even if it kills me (which would make at least 3 people I know quite happy, those being the 3 people this month that have told me they wished serious bodily harm upon my person).  Gone are the days of regaling my boon companions, and anyone else who will listen, with the tales of my 'exploits'. No longer will I share the details of my nights of debauchery aloud with my group of friends. Words are precious, and I am going to begin to treat them as such.

Like water in a desert, I will use words sparingly. I will have to adjust to this new theory, and I am quite sure I will get asked the 'what's wrong with you' question a lot, but the decision has been made, and for better or worse it must be enforced.  I had hopes that I would not have to make this tough decision, but factors quite beyond my control forced my hand. It is not something that I necessarily want to do, but something that I have to do in order to maintain a sort of control over my life. Or, at least the appearance of control. How much control any of us have over our lives is open to debate.  This control has to be enforced by me, because of the actions of others. Some of them probably haven't a clue that they are forcing me into this decision, and some of them probably don't give a fuck, and will celebrate my laconic-ness with a high tea party, to which I shall not be invited.

Truth is I am fairly certain my exploits and my debauchery are a bit overinflated, and that really, and truly no one wants to hear about them anyway. Which, from now on, is just perfect because they won't, they shouldn't, and they can't. The foolishness in which I engage shall be solely the province of myself, and perhaps the one other person with with I engage in aforementioned foolishness. Get used to being answered in three words or fewer when you pose me any questions, and if you persist in asking questions, be prepared to get only two words in reply. I am quite certain this decision will not distress anyone in my 'inner circle' and will probably make quite a number of people quite happy (and we all know how much I like making my fellow human beings 'happy'). 

The adjustment period will be difficult, but as with most things worth doing, a little difficulty is to be expected. It is just a simple fact that this has to happen for the betterment of, well the betterment of me, the rest of you lot, with a few minor exceptions, I could give a shit less about. The ones who are the exceptions know who they are, and the others can sod off for all I care. It is a decision born of self-preservation, and one that I do not take lightly.  I can only hope that all the words I save myself from speaking can, with the proper adjustment, turn into words I write with aplomb. I doubt it will work, but the goal of this decision is to turn myself from a talker into a writer. Wish me luck, I've a feeling I am going to need it. 

No comments: