Sometimes I avoid doing certain things because they make me angry, not necessarily because they’re bad things but because I’m easy to wind up. But then I realise everything makes me angry to some degree. You think this would make for an easy decision, if I’m going to be pissed off either way, and I really want to do it, then what’s to lose? Nope, my brain doesn’t work like that.
Other times I find myself wedged tight between the answers of life’s various multiple choice questions (options scare the shit out of me). Do I go left or right? Do I write this story or that one? Do I go to the museum during my lunch break or the book shop? Or do I stand in the rain outside of Greggs agonising over the decision until my hour is up? I think you can guess what happens more often than not.
So you think I’d be happier when there’s only one option available? Nuh uh, then I’m back to angry. Only one choice? That sucks donkey balls! Where are my options, man? Where are my deceptively evil alternatives that make the selection process of mundane activities the hell I’m so used to? Give me choices, dammit! Give me the agony I demand!
If you’re anything like me you’ll find yourself frittering away days getting naff all done and feeling simultaneously happy and sad about it. You’ve achieved nothing today, but at least you didn’t have to do anything to get there.
I’m always full of plans and motivations before the fact, and then the time comes where I have…time, and I can’t quite bring myself to do what needs to be done. I feel a bit shit at getting bugger all done, but the next day I’m back to making big and exciting plans, and the world is my bivalve mollusc.
If you’re tired of feeling like this, there is an easy solution…
Punch the walrus.
Seriously. Smack that pudgy fucker right in its cinnamon-coloured, whiskery face! Damn the fact it’s cute. Destroy something pretty! Make it cry! Wobble some blubber!
Make yourself so damn angry that you’d be willing to jump on a plane to Wrangel Island in Siberia, and hunt down the most punchable flipper-flapping toothy git you can find!
Square up to the bastard, look it dead in it’s puppy-like eyes – it’s either you or him, your work or the walrus – now wind up a Popeye style swing, seriously, flail that meathook around until your arm resembles a Roadrunneresque leg-spinning circle of death…then release and send some tusks flying!
…of course you understand I’m talking metaphorical walruses, right? I mean those that have already booked their flights to Siberia should still go, I hear it’s lovely this time of year, but please don’t punch the wildlife.
Punch the walrus of indecision.
Use your uncertainty for the power of good. A rational person wouldn’t punch a walrus because it’s just plain mean…and they’re too damn cute. And a fully hulked out person wouldn’t punch a walrus because they live so damn far away you’d have calmed down a wee bit by the time you reached one. You need to be both rational and irrational – a little bit sensible and a little bit crazy. Keep that edge of babbling on the brink of madness, but inch it back so you’re only teetering on the precipice rather than hurtling in the void screaming like a banshee.
Vacillate like you’ve never vacillated before, but now do it with style.
Punch the walrus.
Then get on with it…