This I Believe

Timothy - Dallas, Texas
Entered on February 25, 2007
Age Group: 18 - 30

I believe in Average.

I am a content, indecisive 30 year-old who finds disappointment in choice. I have a hard time believing in any one thing one hundred percent and I have come to the realization that I do not want to.

My past and the life around me are set in decision. One has to decide on a job. One has to decide on a religion, on a partner, on a family, a car, an Internet provider, toilet paper. In years past, we were only aware of so many choices that, compared to today, things were really black and white. Now, thanks to Wikipedia; thanks to books about everything and movies about anything; thanks to events like 9/11 that boggle the confines of human reasoning—I see that absolutely anything is possible. I want a little of it all.

I do not claim the A.D.D. card. I believe everyone has a little A.D.D.—this is what adds color to our lives. I believe A.D.D. has become such an epidemic that it is no longer excusable—it is expected.

“What music do you like?” A little bit of everything.

“What do you want to do with your life?” Not sure, I just don’t want to be in an office all day.

“What’s your major?” Oh, I’m undeclared.

“Republican or Democrat?” I didn’t vote, but I’d probably say Independent.

“Why are you still single?” Well, it’s not so much that I am commitment-phobic, I’m just afraid of committing to the wrong person.

The Information Age has made everything readily available and equally important. It is not that I have A.D.D.; I just cannot declare what I want to do among the many things possible. I am part of the Undeclared Generation.

I do not want to declare a job. I do not want to declare a wife. I do not want to declare a political party. I do not want to declare a religion. I do not want one thing. I want the sum total of everything; I want the average that life has to offer.

I want to add every religion up and take the average: be good, don’t kill, don’t steal, etc. I want to take all political ideas, add them up and take the average: you don’t really need all those resources, so lets give some to these people who really do; lets not build nukes and just agree that none of us are going to push any buttons, agreed? I want the average of all toilet paper brands: this is soft but not too large that it won’t fit in your dispenser, and it’s not over priced. I want the average college education: I want to write well and have good credit—and if I know how to stitch someone up in an emergency, hey, that’s good.

I do not want to be the God-fearing Democrat who has excellent math skills when the Earth opens up to reveal a well-read Republican Devil—who happens to be a really nice guy. I want to be able to say, “Hey, I did that. I know a little about that. That’s my argument, but let me argue my point with myself because, hey, I know both sides and neither one is perfect—the average of the two is ideal.

When I look around at everyone who has decided; at everyone who has settled on an answer, I feel inadequate. I feel like I should be able to say that I am a Democrat, or a Catholic, or that I want to be a published author. I want to express my undying love for someone, but if she is not completely into me, well then, maybe I’ll reserve a little for someone else. I want to be able to do these things with conviction and a resolute heart—but I cannot. Despite my inadequacies, I despise people who refuse to look at both sides of an issue; I feel that they are lacking because of their decision.

I have decided to want everything. I will remain undeclared until I can declare a synergized average. I believe that the Average is Utopia, and that if I can decide on everything, then perhaps contentment—the average of sadness and happiness—will become utter bliss.