21 Y2K about choices and milk cartons

At this very moment, somewhere in the universe

something important is happening. of course.
Someone’s life is changing; someone is changing.

(Skip down to the last paragraph, if you’re even reading this. I’m sorry for sounding utterly inane below - most of that is gone by the last paragraph.)

Whether it be by death or by new life, or by outside circumstances or internal struggle, or by the very stroke of luck and God that is a conscious, deliberate, actually intelligent choice about something important (at least for me). At Panda Express, should I order the orange chicken or the spring rolls or the chow mein? I spend a ridiculous amount of energy on those questions. Should I read Red Queen because of all the rave reviews I’ve heard or this other, less well-known novel by Orson Scott Card? It’s stupid - I’ll just get them both from the library because there’s no way I’m spending thirty-five dollars on things I might despise myself for reading, but I agonize anyway. So, with the brain juice I have left over, there’s enough for deciding to do homework and actually doing homework. Only after that do I actually think about what matters, what’s (I feel a Hamilton lyric eluding me right now) but there’s only a precious few drops I have left in my mind’s reserves and they are the kind of drops that refuse to depart the corners of a milk carton even if you turn it upside down and wait several minutes. (Also the kind of drops that lead you to thinking that the Princess Bride is very very real and that Florin is absolutely a genuine place. You can judge me because I am judging myself right now) So. I flip a coin a couple times and make a decision. Those decisions change me and I can’t change them.

Your moment will come, but even in that moment, you might not even know that it’s your moment. And unless you know and tell them, no one else will know that your moment has irrevocably changed you forever. But it’s happened, and it’s significant, and it’s important to remember how and why and when. “You could not step twice into the same river.” Yes, the water swirling around your legs is different; but otherwise, you stub your toe on the same bedrock.