I just came across this essay I wrote many years ago while digging up examples to use in the English class I'm teaching at UVU. It's from a book I never finished called "I Have Wasted My Life." It's about choices and your identity. I liked it and decided to post it here: Everyone knows the importance of choosing your favorite flavor of ice cream. You’ll be tested, and you don’t want to get it wrong and look like a fool. At five, my favorite flavor was ice cream sandwiches. The chocolate outside made the experience rich and sweet, and the thin slice of vanilla inside kept my mouth wet and cool. One would never satisfy, but one was all I got. Once gone, the chocolate and creamy ice cream left me thirsty, hungry for another, the hunger remaining until the taste had left my mouth. Sometimes my favorite flavor was the cones dipped in the chocolate that hardened instantly around the generous swirls of soft serve vanilla and crunched between my baby teeth. At the ice cream stand near home or across the street from the San Francisco Zoo, these came with a colorful, tiny glass animal figurine. While eating my cone and for a long time afterward, I would hold the tiny figure in my tiny hand and stare. The intricate, tiny details of a gazelle’s legs and horns, the fascinating grace in the curve of a tiger’s slender body captivated me, held me in a willing trance. The colors swirled gently inside and turned wonderfully brilliant when held up to the sun. Other flavors have come and gone since. Peppermint. Tutti Frutti. Burnt almond fudge. Mint chocolate chip. But I always return to vanilla—or to the only variation that has lasted, French vanilla. "But vanilla’s so common!" I’ve heard the complaints. "Be original, think for yourself, choose something new!" Sometimes they offer help and suggestions. "What about tin roof sundae? Everyone loves cookies & cream." If you haven’t tried it, maybe you’ll find a new favorite. But even when you already know you like vanilla best, they don’t always listen or relent. They somehow know better than you what your favorite is, and they’re determined for you to see things their way. That’s not what "favorite" is all about, of course, but that’s often the way it happens. I never chose who I would be, not at first. Everything chose for me. That’s not what "identity" is all about, but that’s the way it often happens. "Who are you?" A girl, a boy, man or woman. A student, worker. Smart, dumb. Capable, lazy. Says who? When did you decide? Did you even decide in the first place or simply accept what was handed to you, what you found conveniently laying on the sidewalk at your feet? You’ll be tested on this. You don’t want to get it wrong and look like a fool. If someone who knows better than you doesn’t appreciate your identity, they may offer help. "C’mon, think for yourself," they may say. "Be unique. See things my way." Most influences on our self-perceptions are more subtle. "How much money do you make?" "What car do you drive?" "Who are your friends?" "What score did you get?" "Can you shoot three pointers?" Powerful suggestions about your identity and its acceptability to others are implied in every question and answer. Implications and suggestions like these had a significant impact on my identity the first time around, but I’m doing better, I’m remembering the colors, the crunch, and the thirst for my favorite flavor. The more I learn about who I am, about what I like and how I want my life to turn out, the thirstier I become to know myself better, to choose who I will be, and to live accordingly, to make it come true. Each new clue feels like a refreshing bite into a soft ice cream sandwich, the sweet mix of chocolate and vanilla melting on my tongue, the salty ocean breeze tousling my hair, tempering the heat of the summer sun. Life can be unique or average. This is unimportant. Life can be sweet or tangy or sour. Which do you prefer? My favorite flavor is the glass that turns brilliant when held up to the sun. The sweet chocolate shell that crunches between my teeth when I bite in deep. The smooth vanilla that quenches my thirst momentarily, then leaves me craving more, and the memory never fades.