In Defense of "Safe Choices"

Reflections on the choices that brought me here.

My cute ass family on a horseback ride to the Pyramids in Giza circa 2004.

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This is the first story in sunday brunch, a newsletter by me, Justice Sifford. Join me and let’s chat each week.

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First things first: I’m 25 years old. That’s young even if it doesn’t always feel that way. I’m 25, but my whole life older people have told me I was an “old soul.” I decided that was a compliment coming from them even though I never really knew what they meant. It usually comes after a reference to some movie or music from the 70’s or 80’s, which I generally don’t even feel that connected to. I guess there is some spiritual kinship I share with old folks. Maybe I’ve lived more past lives than my friends. Whatever it is, I think I’m starting to feel it in myself.

At a young 25 years old, I find myself reflecting on my life, and my choices. Sometimes it feels like I’m too young to do that, but I do it anyways. I like to imagine the chain of choices that lead me to where I am. Which houses and apartments show up in my mind’s eye. Which schools and which friends and which pets influenced who I am today.

I grew up as a third-culture kid. My dad was in the Army, and my family of four moved states or countries every couple of years. My youth was filled with exciting experiences that most kids aren’t lucky enough to have. I’ve been west coast, east coast, and midwest. On the spectrum of schools attended, I’ve gone from international private schools with rich kids to schools plagued with gang violence, to rural schools with a balanced ratio of racist homophobes to actually good lifelong friends.

I was a loud kid. As far as I was concerned, I was a performer. I wanted to sing and dance and act and make people smile and laugh and feel good. That was always my goal for as long as I could remember. My parents called me a ham. I wore it like a badge of honor. You guys, I really thought I was Britney Spears. I thought of myself as a risk taker. I always thought one day I’d pack up and go to New York and become famous or I’d travel the world forever like a transient (but very posh) backpacker with, like, a Chanel bag or something.

But by the time I turned 12, my dad had retired from the Army and we settled in my mom’s small hometown in Western Maryland. Thus began a series of safe choices that lead me to become the man I am today. Well, maybe not right away.

This was actually start of my life in theater. I began performing at school and in community theater and continued that through college and even now I still like to perform when I can. Despite this, in high school I made the safe decision to save money and not go into crippling debt by not going away to school, and instead opting to live at home and attend the university in the next town over. I made the safe decision to not study acting and instead go with my “plan B” to nourish some of my other interests. Through this, I found a program I fell in love with, in a department full of dedicated professors who knew my name and face.

Through these decisions, I learned my love for writing and my passion for rhetorical analysis (wow this sounds super lame but whatever it’s true). I found a niche for myself that didn’t feel risky or scary and that felt good. After college I made a safe choice to move to a city that is close to home, full of plenty of opportunities, and is affordable and comfortable. This (more or less) brings us to now. I’m living in a house that I own with my boyfriend who is amazing and my cats that are cute and cuddly and my life feels good.

I would be lying to say that I never regret not taking some of those risks I considered in the past. Here’s a fun quote about regret from Phillip Picardi’s fruity, my inspo for starting this newsletter:

“I hate people who say they have no regrets. They are liars. I know they’re not immune to replaying arguments in their heads while showering, finally finding the exact words that would have shut their opponent down. Why didn’t I think to say that in the moment?, they ask themselves. That is a regret! Let’s be honest with ourselves here.”

Regrets are a part of life. But dwelling on regrets will never move you forward. Yes, sometimes I think about what my life might be like now if I had risked it all and trucked myself out to LA and tried to “make it,” or even how I might fare if I dropped everything and went for it now. But as it turns out, I like my life. And I’m thankful for the choices I’ve made that brought me here.

It brings me joy to know that, in this year of new chaos coming in daily (literal UFOs among other more obvious things), I’ve created a life for myself that is not chaotic or frightening.

I’m happy. I’m comfortable. I’m safe and healthy. I’m content.

And I understand how incredibly lucky and fortunate I am, being in a position of comfort in a time when very little comfort can be found anywhere. Maybe the uncertainty and fear in an age of social distancing is what’s causing so much self-reflection.

Existing in a place of relative stability while the world seems to crumble around me feels like sitting in a car at a stop light when a torrential downpour starts. At the same time, you feel glad you aren’t the guy walking his dog with no umbrella caught in the rain (that’s called schadenfreude- here’s a song about it) and sad that you can’t offer them a ride because they wouldn’t fit or you’re allergic to dogs or you’re going in opposite directions. You wish you could help, but there’s not much you could do. So, you count your blessings that day and hope you can do good another day.

I guess that’s what I’m doing. Counting my blessings. Thanking myself for the choices I’ve made, even with those riskier alternatives tempting me. They’ve allowed me some stability. And in 2020, “some stability” is a lucrative resource.