Every Desire Needed a Sign-Off

Even when the urge to do something surges up out of nowhere, I almost never act on it right away. Everything must pass through the exacting intake procedures inside my head.

It is as though I have set up a small company in there. The drafter, the reviewer, and the final signatory are all me—a remarkably industrious organization.

The same thing happens when a promising idea for an essay comes to me late at night. It would be nice to jot down at least a few sentences right away, but my inner review meeting convenes without fail.

• Haven’t I seen this topic somewhere before?
  
• Does it overlap with something I’ve already written?
  
• Will it feel trivial by tomorrow?
  
• Is it too personal—or, conversely, too generic?
  
• And above all: is this really something I want to write?
  

I hadn’t written a single line, yet five plausible grounds for rejecting the proposal had already been produced.

In the end, what I finished that night was not an essay but a one-page statement of reasons for rejecting the idea.

Submit an Incident Report for Every Emotion

Ideas are not the only items that go through this process. Emotions, too, are subject to similar rules.

On days when my spirits sink to rock bottom for no apparent reason, I will not be satisfied until I have tracked the feeling to its source.

I question each possibility in turn: whether work has worn me down, whether I have had too little time alone, whether I am simply short on sleep, or whether I have even lost my sense of direction in life.

What my body actually wants is nothing more than a brief nap, yet the internal audit team keeps demanding a written explanation of the situation.

Good moods get the same treatment. Am I genuinely happy, merely excited by something new, or thrilled because I have found an excuse to dodge reality? I insist on finding out.

Joy cools while waiting for a ruling on its authenticity, and sadness dissipates while accounting for its own cause.

“Why did you feel that way?”

“Do you have evidence that the feeling is genuine?”

Feelings are generally poor witnesses under this kind of questioning, because most are a little vague and inconsistent, and their testimony shifts between today and tomorrow.

But the review committee inside me insists on a consistent answer. The committee consists of a single member and operates on the principle of unanimity.

And that one member always votes no.

Eligibility Requirements for Sincerity

Looking back, what my internal committee demanded was not just a reasonable justification. It wanted a guarantee that the desire would persist.

If I wanted to try writing even one piece, I had to answer whether I planned to keep writing in the future. If a whim to pick up a hobby struck, I first had to disclose how long I could keep it up this time. If a new subject caught my interest, I had to explain what practical use it might have someday.

I had effectively made my future self a co-signer on today’s curiosity.

I used to regard only lasting feelings as sincere. If interest faded within days, I decided it had been mere impulse after all; if I couldn’t see something through to the end, I concluded that even my initial enthusiasm had been exaggerated.

Whenever I wanted to do something, I sought permission first. I kept filing the choice to take a single action and the decision about what kind of person I was in the same approval folder.

Starting Work on Starting Work

This happened all the time when I was preparing concept art. The moment I felt like drawing something, I would first collect references and flesh out the idea in text. The reference folder and the design doc grew quite thorough, but what remained on the actual canvas was a flimsy sketch.

Of course, whether it even qualified as a sketch required a separate review. The work had stalled at step one, yet the system for getting started was nearly perfect.

For a long time I called this laziness, then renamed it perfectionism, and at times ruled it a lack of willpower. The label changed often; the result stayed much the same. And so the analysis I began in order to understand myself more accurately had, before I knew it, become a verdict that kept me from moving.

The item is again deferred to the next meeting.

Expired While Under Review

This elaborate approval system did prevent bad decisions on a few occasions, but it let far more desires expire. Some interests stick around for a season; some impulses only stand a chance of taking shape if my hands get to work before the night is over. Not every feeling waited for the approval process to end.

Even so, I would look at a feeling that had gone cold and conclude that it had never been sincere after all. Review after review, I let it run past its expiration date, then rejected it again on the grounds that it was no longer valid—a watertight piece of bureaucracy.

But a passing interest can still be real for as long as it lasts. Maybe I was simply the one who wore out first, trying each time to prove that the feeling was sincere.

Abolishing the Pre-Approval Requirement

That said, I can’t conclude that I’ll simply think less from now on. Telling me to stop thinking is roughly equivalent to recommending that the internal audit team voluntarily disband. The audit team would probably begin by convening a special meeting to review the merits of disbanding.

I still love the moment I understand a structure, and I feel alive when I gather scattered emotions into sentences. I just need to change the order of thinking and doing a little.

Even what kind of writing I wanted to do only became a little clearer after I had actually written a few pieces. What I would go on liking for a long time was not something I could answer before I started.

Even if something I try does not suit me, I can find out what does not fit. That gives me one more short user review of myself.

So from now on, instead of requiring final approval, I’ve decided to return a degree of signing authority to my own feelings.

• Any item that can be started within twenty minutes shall be signed off by the person in charge.
  
• Emotions of unknown origin shall be accepted on intake.
  
• Today’s interest shall not be required to submit a five-year plan.
  
• The original filing shall not be deemed false merely because the interest has faded.
  

A surprisingly radical operating policy.

Skipping the Final Review

This essay itself has not yet cleared every approval. There are still things to review: whether I have kept the metaphor going too long, whether the middle sags, whether I have ended up at a predictable lesson.

There is a strong chance I’ll want to delete entire paragraphs when I reread it tomorrow. The relevant department has already registered its concerns.

Still, this time I am going to leave those concerns in the minutes and let the essay out the door.

This item is therefore conditionally approved.

There are no conditions.