Decisions, or, Young and In Love

I have reached a conclusion – I am bored. And usually, in my boredom, I make bad decisions.

Today I had to go downtown to the District office of Regulatory and Consumer Affairs to apply for a foreign Limited Liablity Corporation registration. It was a beautiful morning, and as I walked down North Capital Street, tired and looking haggard, people were smiling at me. At first this made me nervous, and then I laughed at the fact that it made me nervous. I realized that people were smiling because it was a beautiful morning and I looked haggard, and because people are people and have their lives to smile about.

There was a line at the office, and I waited. I had been listening to music from senior year of college. Last night I went to bed after several glasses of wine, missing my apartments from previous years, understanding that my new home did not yet smell like me and did not yet feel like home. But the years before feel like home, because I lived in them. I walked down North Capital Street with my coffee and passed by people smoking cigarettes outside of Union Square, and this made me miss senior year even more, and even more acutely, junior year.

I made a mess at security, but the whole process was quite quick. I still had time, so I decided to linger at Union Square, watching people coming and going. I almost bought a train ticket – to anywhere – but didn’t because I had to use the bathroom and the tickets, honestly, are pretty expensive. So I sat out in the sun and watched people, wondering why I missed these past years.

These years were so painful – so tormenting and so full of doubt – why do I remember them fondly? They are, perhaps, like relationships, when we only remember the good parts. But no, I like these years because they were challenging, because I overcame so much. I like these years because I made so many bad decisions. And on the metro, coming to work, I slumped in my seat, still looking haggard, and smiled.

I like my bad decisions. They are my secrets. Nobody knows when I walk down the street that I stayed up too late last night, that I drank too much, that the smell of cigarettes make me feel at home. Nobody knows the agonizing memories of the men whom I have loved, the songs I have listened to over and over to get me through the walk to class. My bad decisions are little vices, they are easily overcome when I decide to, but I still make them because they make me interesting to myself. Making all the right decisions, being thoroughly and fully good to myself is boring. Since this is, after all, my life, there are no right or wrong decisions. There are just ones that provide different smells, and different memories.

Slumped in my seat, I smiled more. Not feeling very well, and tired, I knew I would be home later today after a day of work at the computer, and I would be alright. My home would smell like my home, and my secret decisions would still be mine. And the smile came because I thought how wonderful life is when you are young and in love!