Blink Away

A few weeks ago I read the popular book Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, who has the dream job of working for The New Yorker and just writes best-selling books in his spare time. In case you missed all the media hoopla over his book, which was similar to the media hoopla surrounding John Stewart’s America (the book) and Freakonomics, meaning multiple appearances on morning shows and soundbites on evening news programs, the book is basically about how our snap judgments are startlingly accurate.

For me, the biggest thing this book did was to give a new spin to what was formerly just considering bitchiness or snarkiness. I’ve been dismissed as judgmental for years, which always bothered me because everyone on this planet judges each other. Nothing bothers me more than people who act as if they’re above that, as if they reserve all judgments until after they’ve completed an in-depth interview and exchanged personal journals with each person they encounter. The kid who steps in front of you to get on the subway, the guy who stare a little too long in the wrong way when you’re walking down the street alone, the blind woman, the preppy white girl, you judge each of these people in different ways and you need to stop denying it because that either makes you a liar or a pod person.

What I like about Malcolm Gladwell is that he doesn’t say, “Quit being such a judgmental bitch and get a manicure.” He says, “dude, that’s totally fine. In fact, Nora, you SHOULD do that. Your snap judgments are often better than the long, drawn-out ones.” To which I say, “Thanks, MG. Let’s have lunch sometime. You’re neat.”

The first few weeks of college I was perceived as a little snotty, a bit standoffish. I know this only because of course, my girlfriends and I had a night of brutal honesty where we re-hashed all of our first impressions. I wouldn’t argue that perception of myself in a million years, because it’s completely accurate. I don’t jump into terrifying new social situations face first. I hang back, I evaluate, I watch and I judge.

I bring this up not to run through a list of people that I had pegged as douche bags before the rest of the world caught on (although I will furnish said list upon request) but to bring up another of my favorite topics: the self-doubt that plagues so many people my age.

I have brilliant and fantastic friends. Friends with talent and personality and intelligence and beauty. Friends who could probably do anything, but are unconvinced that they have what it takes to make their own decisions and steer their own lives.

I myself spend plenty of time agonizing over decisions. At age 10 I was having panic attacks about WHERE IS MY LIFE GOING? And AM I A FAILURE? Half the time I go to buy shampoo I leave the store empty-handed because I’M NOT JUST SURE if I need Volumizing shampoo or Moisturizing shampoo and I’d rather just continue not washing my hair than MAKE THE WRONG CHOICE AND WASTE $4.95.

The thing is (and advice is always much easier to give than to follow) I really do believe Malcolm Gladwell. I believe that everyone has that little voice inside of them that knows what is right, whether it’s to not accept a first date offer from a guy who uses more hair product than you do, or to choose the rigatoni for dinner. The more time you spend laboring over a decision, the more likely you are to make the wrong one. That last sentence was completely unscientific, but I feel like it held true during my brief stint in Honors Pre-Calc.

I had a heart-to-heart talk with a dear friend the other night, a person who feels stuck in the life they are living, and is now at a crossroads with what they believe has no clear path. I told my friend what I tell myself when I feel like that, which is that if we know ourselves, we DO know which decision is right, and we owe it to ourselves to follow that.

It’s not always popular and it’s not always easy, but honestly, the best part about life is the choices. Shit, it’s the ultimate choose-your-own-adventure. And before you say what I think you’re going to say, skipping to the end ALWAYS ruined the book and was a perfectly good waste of your book fair money so please do not abuse the analogy. The point is that yes, life is scary, but trust me, you can do this.

I love all of my friends wholly and passionately, to the point where yes, I’ve considered moving to a commune to begin a religious cult so we could all be together ALL OF THE TIME. This was easier said than done, clearly. Each of these friends was a total “Blink” success story. Josh made me laugh so hard I thought my heart would stop. Jay's so intelligent he could take your clothes off with his mind, but he doesn't. Ryan is not only a Latin geek, but has the best sense of self-deprecating humor ever. Beven is loyal, hilarious, and almost always ready to take a nap. Dailer is my mind-reader. Colleen has huge jugs, but she doesn't judge my A-cups. Cara Shannon is a straight-A student who can't calculate tax in her head. Erin Mulcahy can calculate tax vs. 10% off with a Get-One-Free coupon. Gilmore can name any movie or actor with just my weak, three-word descriptions. Gene Weaver can and will throw rocks at your window at 1am to wake you up for a drive around the lakes and a 44oz. Diet Coke.

Something in each of them was instantly recognizable as valuable and inviting, and as a result, I have a circle of people that I’m trying to recruit into my cult. Gladwell was really onto something, and I suggest you all read the book.