About All Regrets

Post 1063:

I’m talking to a dude the other night who tells me he has no regrets. I nodded and smiled, because that’s what you do when you hear something atrociously awful.

I’ve got regrets. You betcha. On the list is the moment when I heard the guy telling me he had no regrets. Sure, I can assume or even conclude that he was simply saying that he’s not looking back or living it up or throwing it down or whatever. Still. Come on. Dude. Regret that shiz.

For the honest among us there’s no escaping regrets. When I turned from a life of comfort and relative stability to do “other things,” it was the right choice. I was compelled. Impelled. I was pelled. Still, even knowing I made the right choice, I nonetheless have regrets. I mean, I know it was right. But do I know know?

Who knows?

There’s this magic spot I find once every so often during big decision times, where I know I may regret what I’m doing but I’m okay with it. You can’t sit at the table forever. You gotta hold or fold. Man, the poker metaphors I could go into…

So do your thing. Make decisions. The more decisions, the more regrets. No decisions, all regrets. That’s a t-shirt. I regret not starting a t-shirt company.

It’s one on a list of many.

Cheers and see you after.