...and don't panic! The Know brings you advice during housing
A true friend is always there for you, especially when you're drunk.
Miss Quit regresses to her childhood this week as the prospect of beginning the "University of Life" looms.
Choices are funny things. We panic when we have them and we moan when we don't. When faced with a toughie myself, I usually rely on a foolproof course of action: avoidance. Its not that I can't make a decision, but rather that I am loath to because, ultimately, it means rejecting something. And that's just mean.
Of course, there is more to it than that. Sophocles had it down when he said that a quick decision is an unsafe decision. Well then, I must be on a par with the Green Cross Code man in the safety stakes. Thing is, I'm not a kid anymore, and there won't always be a tabard-clad man to hold my hand and cross the street.
After years of twiddled thumbs and deluded denial it was time to be a big girl and make up my mind. I started with lunch.
Usually, a huge menu intimidates me and by the time I've chosen my starter everyone else has almost polished off their mains. Don't even get me started on ordering at Starbucks. Anyway, with the help of a friend, I ordered the first thing on the menu with no more than a glance. After all, how unsafe could a cheese and tomato panini be?
Oh, how naive.
My underestimation of spitfire selection backfired horrifically when the time came for a spot of shoe shopping. Spotting them across the room, my heart palpitating, I knew it would all end in tragedy. The wedge heel! The peep-toe! "Buy me" they drawled, "and you will find salvation" but, horror of horrors, was it the red pair I could hear calling to me, or the navy?
Sure enough, I was doomed to indecision. And at that point, I got inexplicably angry and couldn't get over how restrictive choice is. It implies an either-or outlook. Never before had I understood commitment-phobes as I did in that moment. It was the wake-up call I needed.
Hiding behind the happy-go-lucky face of the terrified decision-avoider, for so long had concealed the fact that I was one of them. It was time to acknowledge that my anxiety bordered on irrational.
For decisions aren't things to be feared. They are necessary boundaries that help to realise opportunity and potential, and even avoid disaster. I chose to go to university, to move away from home, to come to York. If I hadn't then I wouldn't have had the experiences, met the people I now hold dear, or have learnt the things that have shaped me so far. I certainly wouldn't be writing this column now. Fate, I now see, had nothing to do with it.
Romantic as the notion of serendipity is, I must admit that I have become somewhat cynical, or realistic, over the past two years. That may be a reflection on the mature/jaded company I like to keep, but more so I believe its an inevitable part of the transition into adulthood. The older we get, the larger, harder and more serious the decisions we have to make become. Until the twilight days when our biggest problem will be whether to have mushy beans or carrots for dinner, decisions are only going to abound from here on in.
As for the shoes? I ended up getting both pairs. After all, I didn't really have a choice!
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