Spontaneous Courage

There have only been a few instances in my life when I've delved into spontaneous courage - usually events thrust upon me that required me to make a choice right then and there. Some worked out well for most parties - when my Mom fell down the stairs I called 911 and then took care of her until the ambulance arrived, remaining calm all the way - and some worked out not so well - when I saw a young skiier stranded in a snow bank, I went in to help only to become trapped in the snow bank as well. The fact of the matter is that I didn't lack courage or overthink the situation, I just dove right on in.

For most people, jumping right into a situation is not an unusual trait. I was born differently though and given the gift of a writer's mind. The writer's mind never shuts down. Honestly, it is a 24/7 mind that keeps on churning out ideas even while I sleep. The problem that this creates is that I am used to thinking first and then acting. Now that might sound like a very good principle to follow, and generally it is, except that my writer's mind doesn't just think about things - it perfects them first.

The classic example of the way my mind works:

As a child, I would play make-believe, as kids are wont to do. But unlike other kids, I would replay my make-believe scenario over and over and over again until I got just the right amount of drama applied. It wasn't enough that my hero had to jump on the rocks to escape the lava. No. There had to be dinosaurs. And demons. And a sword that had to be snatched. And a big fight scene with the Devil where limbs were hacked off. And the world was about to end unless the hero saved the day. And there was a princess... I think you get the idea. Over and over again, I'd replay this make-believe scene until I had just the right amount of complexity and pathos for it to be the BEST scene ever.

Now apply that kind of thinking to something mundane like asking a girl out. Most guys would simply walk up to a girl, take a deep breath, and spit out the words. Five seconds later, win or lose, they guy would have his answer. Not me. I would run through every single scenario. Every possible win. Every possible failure. I would determine what was the best way to ask. When the best time to ask might be. What I should be wearing. Where I might do the asking. And how I might sound incredibly romantic and cool. I would do this in my head, over, and over, and over again. Each time looking for just the right amount of complexity and pathos for it to be the BEST attempt at asking a girl out ever.

I didn't ask a lot of girls out. Way too many possibilities of failure. It wasn't that I lacked courage, per se, but that I lacked the sort of courage that allowed me to brave the outcome regardless of the odds against me.

I lack the courage to let the chips fall where they may. I have been trying to control every single variable of every single situation my whole entire life. Its what writers do. We control the information we give you. We control what side of the characters you see. We purposefully keep things back, as if secrecy adds to entertainment value. And the real sad thing about it is, I can't imagine doing anything else. My brain is not wired to react differently.

Even now, as I write this, my mind is trying to churn out a way to ask a girl out. I'm creating some compelling reason as to why I should, or shouldn't do it. I'm putting it in writing, because that's what I do - it's the way I think. I simply can't walk up to her and say, "Hey, want to go out for lunch some time?" Or should I say something else? Maybe coffee? Dessert?

The problem with analyzing yourself is that you start to ask why you're analyzing yourself and then you question your need to analyze yourself and to analyze your analysis... etc, so on and so forth. It's an endless rabbit-hole that you've started down.

I'm working up some spontaneous courage. This, of course, will never work. Because for it to work, it would have to be spontaneous.

Maybe I should just settle for courage and leave the head shrinking to someone else?