That is, if we were given a small range of topics to choose from.
I would choose one easily and sail into my subject.
What fried my brain was to be told, "You can write about anything you like."
My thoughts would dart about like frightened rabbits, trying to latch on to a substantial idea.
I felt strangely unsafe, like a baby scared it might fall.
As if the world had suddenly become too large and there was nowhere for me to hold on to.
Give me a day with no arrangements -
I used to be so excited about all the possibilities
All the things I could do with a whole day to myself.
Nowadays, not so much of excitement
Because I have learned that wide vistas of choice undo me completely
And in my trying to land on " the one thing" I want to do, my day slides past in tatters.
|If there are many choices, I'd rather exit. Thanks.|
I suppose my malaise boils down to an aversion to too much choice.
Most people think that having lots of choice is freedom.
Maybe so for them
The normal ones.
But for me it doesn't feel like freedom
It feels like too much space.
You know, when I sat down to write this blog, I thought to myself,
"You can write about anything at all."