The Decisions We Make, The Regrets We Have

As usual, I did my thinking in the car. My legs, heart and 6 am air dictate that tomorrow I shall take a long walk in a place that means a lot to me. Sleep should happen right now, but it won't, for I have ideas and words and feelings that need to spill out as fast as my fingers can type. 

What am I afraid of? 

I have realized finally that the shadowy thing in my way is fear. It stands in front of all the wild things I want to do. Fear and judgement. 

I'm talking with a friend of mine; talking of regrets, of the things we wish we'd done, and how our lives are progressing now. Existentialism by any other words.....

I've done some wild things, but things tempered by good judgement. I entered that abandoned factory only when I thought my chances of not getting caught were reasonably high. A smart decision on my part in terms of logistics and punishment, and yet, without the risk, was it as fun?

I think about myself twenty years from now. If I were to take my savings account right now, pour it into a motorcycle, hop on it and take myself to Memphis by way of Austin, would this change my life? This decision would undoubtedly set me back; the savings money would no longer be a buffer between my future existence of independence and a possible bad future job market. The savings account would no longer be there to come in handy for an emergency car repair or payment, the deposit on the apartment I want, the money I ultimately want to invest in a home. That money would be the cost of this motorcycle endeavor. And yet, would the cost be worth it? My parents would be disappointed, something I hate doing to them. But would this one act of danger, of wild, impulsive decision lead to adventures that would turn into a book or writings that take me to places I can't get to while walking the line?

When I was in middle school and especially in elementary school, I was so concerned with every decision I made and its impact on my future. I stupidly believed teachers in middle school that claimed the grades I made then would bleed into a college's decision to accept me or not. I look back now and think, really, middle school grades? Carolyn, how could you have believed them so willingly? They lied to you, possibly out of ignorance, possibly as a way to keep you on a particular track. 

I actually thought there was a permanent record, as the character of the cartoon Doug heard so often. A permanent record? I wish I had gotten detention a few times, possibly skipped school. I was so concerned with being the best, problem free child as a means to get along with everyone and to assist me in the letters of recommendation I would need for those college applications. But when I look back now, I think, how many people I went to high school with weren't as teacher friendly as I, weren't as motivated and their few run-ins with the principal and teachers did not stop them from getting into the college they wanted, or getting the letters of recommendation they needed. 

Have I walked a straight and narrow path for naught? And in the end, has it always been my decision to do so? If it were my decision wholly, would it then be one of the purest forms of radical, wild independence regardless of how the exterior of my "safe" decisions seem to others?

Beyond the Golden Rules (treat others the way you'd like to be treated, don't kill, don't steal, don't lie, have compassion), which cannot be questioned, I'm old enough now in my young 22 years to know that true independence is achieved when the decisions are made based on my own internal compass, without any sort of regard to the opinions and words of others. 

Looking back on my youngerchild years I realize that with a few exceptions, many of the rule-breaking decisions I could have made would not have affected my long-term goals or my life. Skipping school would have lead to fights with my parents and groundings. Big fucking deal. If those rebel moments had allowed me to feel unconstrained and free, perhaps that would have been worth the weeks I'd have spent grounded. I doubt that those weeks would affect the rest of my life. I would have turned out to be a writer anyway. 

But, at 22 I also think I am mature enough to know that as an adult, the decisions I make now are long reaching and dramatically affect my future. 

Somewhere along the line I went from being completely optimistic to being a negative-minded fatalistic sort of woman. I blame the crushing despair of past years. And yet, there are certain things in life I need to remind myself of. The date this Saturday has just as much a 50% chance of turning into something fantastic as something that doesn't spark me. The latter 50% would crush me while the former would lift me to heights of unbounded happiness. One is better than the other and yet neither will change me; I will still be that compassionate friend willing to lend a shoulder whenever, that determined and passionate writer, that romantic individual with a heart of platinum. 

But in a highly competitive field as journalism, in a ridiculously difficult job market, in a recession, the cost of taking off now and riding around on a motorcycle will impact my life in far reaching ways. Is it possible it can bring about some very good things? Yes. But my sense is that there's a bigger chance, more than 50% that this crapshoot will give me an adventure that takes me away from the big things I want to accomplish in life. Knowing how difficult it is to save money and accumulate it, that drained savings account will lend me more certain time living in a home with little privacy. It will certainly guarantee a loss in internship possibility and with it marketing myself, my words and networking with others. And with that loss, I might have lost the opportunities at the right time I needed to make bounds and leaps into the directions I want to go. I guess I'm trying to say that this isn't a question of detention in a principal's office, this is money, food, shelter and living. These decisions are not innocuous anymore; they have major implications. Cost opportunity, with true costs. 

I think in the end it's the best to realize that part of the human condition is regret. Twenty years from now I have no doubt that there will be regrets I carry. But will the smart, "walk the line" decisions I make now leave me comfortable and happy in the future? Yes, I have the utmost faith in that. I look at my father and think about all of the bohemian, gritty, adventurous things he did when he was even younger than I. 

He drove around, doing lighting for bands, unloading equipment for the Rolling Stones, hanging with musicians. He bounced around and tried drafting, architectural drawing, only to turn down the right street in the wrong direction and he wound up with a television job. That television job led to moves to Austin, and then to California television, where he ultimately met people like Bill Holden, Carol Burnett and Gregory Peck. These adventures gave him a place of prestige at CBS, a very healthy paycheck, and a good home and life for my mother and myself. 

He won't open up about much else, so I don't know if there were many costs to his decisions. Suffice it to say that in all the things I think that were cool about his decisions, he does have regrets he's talked of. Many a time I hear him say he regrets not finishing his degree at University of Texas Austin, having a child too young, marrying when he wasn't ready to be a husband, regretting not going to a four year university and having the college experience. In the end, his adventures led to good things, but this didn't eliminate his sense of regret. No matter the adventures taken, I think there is just as much a chance of regret for not having a more safe, secure and structured life. 

I think the most mature thing is to realize that no matter what path a person has lived, the opposite, the road not taken will always haunt. 

I realize now that I loved (?) him for many reasons, one of them, a bit embarrassingly, is that I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be that 27 year old who was full of ideas, of bravery (bravado), and risk. I wanted to be that person who was bold enough to have a fire tattoo on the back of my calf, to hop on my motorcycle and take the curves too tight, too fast, and write about my travels. To do what I wanted, when I wanted and make a paycheck because of it. I wanted to be that dark horse that wasn't tender-hearted--who could have a lover in every city. Who could engage in sex and dates without getting hurt, with nothing but an article, a fulfilled libido and an orgasm as my accomplishments at the end of the night or the top of the morning. I wanted to be that person that did everything they dreamed of, and furthermore, did it with this attitude, of take-it-or-leave-it, fuck-'em-all-I'll-do-what-I-want-and-make-money-at-it-too.  

I wanted to be him because his sense of himself was so much more sure than mine. He was living the dream and he looked really good doing it too. 

And yet, my final thoughts for tonight will be this: he has regrets too, I know it. He wrote that he feels a sense of loneliness that stems from his traveling. He doesn't own a sense of home, of placement. Though I do not know how much, it seems as though his words had an ache to them. At around the time I knew him, he was $5,000 in debt and living off of rice and beans. He had no companionship from a cat; none of these things seem desirable to me. 

I don't think debt or a dependence on rice and beans is a good thing; his thin body and empty biceps said as much. So did his breath which smelled of cigarettes---having watched grandparents wither away and die painfully because of smoking related illnesses, I can say, years from now, he's going to regret the cigarette smoking as well. 

Every decision has a regret attached because every decision is based on a cost-benefit analysis. 

And in the end, I am me. CEN. There ain't no one else out there like me, and I will find my way to my most authentic self when I no longer care about the adventures or decisions of others. I'll find my way and have no apologies. You just wait!