OMG! I’m writing about abortion!

Wait, no I’m not!

Instead, I’m just a fan of cheap ploys to capture your attention. (For the record, I think abortion shouldn’t be used as a means of birth control — unless you’re ugly (zing!) — but it should be an option when the mother’s life is in danger or in cases of rape and/or incest.)

Uh, but anyway, the reason I said I’m not pro-choice is because I’m horrible at making decisions and the more choices I have, the more decisions I have to make. And the more decisions I have to make, the more anxiety I feel. (Where is Soviet Russia when you need her? Just kidding!)

But perhaps the most pathetic thing in my current situation is that the choices that are causing me so much stress are choices most people probably envy. For instance, I have to decide where in the world I want to go next.

Yeah. If you just punched your computer screen pretending it was my face, I don’t blame you. I realize how certifiably special I sound for complaining about being forced to decide where l want to travel next. As if my world will collapse if I choose to go to Vicuña instead of Mendoza. I mean, clearly you’re all probably wondering how I live with that kind of decision looming over my head.

Yeah. I got it. I know I sound both incredibly spoiled and ridiculous right now. But this is just an example. If you take a second to think about it, you’ll probably realize the more choices you have, the more you stress out about whether your decision will be the right one.

Of course, that’s assuming there even is a such thing as “wrong choice.”

I’d like to think (at least my nerves would) that maybe there isn’t. I mean, even if you make a choice and later think, “Wow, that was stupid. I probably shouldn’t have drunk the ENTIRE bottle. And, crap, do I need an abortion now?” (ZING!), you’re still ahead of where you were before you made that choice. Because at the very least, you know (hopefully) now what choice NOT to make in the future. Unless you’re a whore. (Just kidding. I won’t judge your promiscuity if you don’t judge my stupidity.)

But I digress. What I’m trying to get at (probably to make myself feel better, as well as give myself the proverbial kick in the pantalones I need right now) is that there might not be such a thing as a wrong choice. Sure, there are choices that are better than others. I mean, no one wants to decide whether to wire-hang a baby. (That’s the politically correct term, right?) But even when you do make what turns out to be a not-so-tight choice, remember that at least you have the benefit of knowing you now know what not to choose in the future, which should, if my theory holds correct, eliminate a future choice and, ergo, lessen your stress load. ¡Que bueno!

In closing, while I hope I choose a travel route that maximizes my time, budget and current thirst for nature-y adventures, I probably won’t go wrong no matter what town I wind up in next. At least I’m not wondering what abortion clinic to call. (HOMERUN!)