“If you are too busy to laugh, you are too busy.”

I remember two types of shops from when I would wander downtown markets with my mother when we lived in England. The butchers, into which I dared never enter as the stench of fish emanated so strongly it took effort not to gag. And the bakeries, each of which offered dozens of small, colorful treats molded from sugar into the shapes of all kinds of animals and elves and other creatures somebody decided British children should eat.

I begged each time for my own sugary treat, each of them separated from me only by a thin, finger-print-smudged glass and my mother’s insistence that eating such rubbage would rot my teeth and make me fatter.

When finally she did give in I selected a smiling ladybug made of sugar and frosting. I took the ladybug home, took her out of the bag, and proceeded to stare at it for long, fretful minutes. Had I selected the right one? Certainly I’d made the decision in haste and ladybug here was the penance I’d have to pay for not thinking through the decision well enough.

Why, when choosing the one sweet of all those in the store that would be mine, had I thought to pick out an insect anyway? I wrung my hands anxiously; hopefully, Mom would understand that she’d rushed me and we could return to the shop so that I could make the list of pros and cons for the top 12 items in the bakery, then go about the process the proper way rather than this nilly-hilly buying of items without research.

Of all the nostalgic visions of being a kid in a candy store, I’m fairly certain mine is the only one that includes consulting the most recent issue of Consumer Reports. I can act on my decisions, but I’m not cut out for the decision-making process. And while the aftermath of the ladybug incident worked out with less drama than I had anticipated, the decisions I must make now come with much larger consequences attached.

For years I dreamed about UCLA and NYU – certain one day I’d fly back to the coast for college. But it’s hard to remember those dreams now, as a full-fledged student of Iowa State University of Science and Technology.

I know the benefits – financial, academic, emotional, social – of choosing a university in the Midwest. But I still linger on the plans I’d laid out for myself but never followed through on. I applied to nearly a dozen universities and was accepted into each one. But then I started the horrendous decision-making process.

At the last minute, I overheard a classmate mention Iowa State and decided one more choice wouldn’t hurt. I was happier considering a dozen universities than having to narrow it down to just one. And in the end ,the big draw to Iowa State was that I knew some people going there.

It’s frustrating getting a taste of possibilities but knowing I can only have one. For years I’ve been dipping into every realm I’m interested in, only to get so wrapped up in my revolving involvement that I eventually must give up one part of my life in order to focus more on the others.

In an effort to lead a full life, I find that I have to cut myself away from certain things all together. This semester I am performing a true juggling act – I am an Academic Resource Coordinator in Maple Hall, an RA position with a focus on academics; I write for the Daily; I am a student chair for the Committee on Lectures; I am an editor for Sketch. Oh – I also like to attend classes and have friends.

I like juggling, but juggling so many things means something will always be up in the air. I can never hold focus too long on one thing, lest the rest of them come crashing down. I knew I’d have to eventually pass one of the balls off to somebody else, unless I wanted to spend the entire year with my head in the clouds.

A completely feasible and beneficial solution was presented to me, one which included moving out of the dorms and returning to a job I already knew I liked. I had the decision. But I still had to make it. I had a miserable month deliberating, worrying that life would forever change should I falter in the slightest and make the wrong choice.

I was the kid that wanted to move to New York City at 18, and I was too worried to move across campus and quit a job I didn’t have time for.

I knew it was time to pack my bags, quit my job in the residence halls, and move on to something else. I’d spent a semester getting more cups of coffee than hours of sleep and cutting off friends and fun all in the name of responsibility and accomplishment.

The decision making turned out to be simpler once I got down to business and just made a decision, knowing my professional and personal lives would not come to a crashing halt just because I had to bow out of the show a few months early. Putting in my resignation did not cause the moon to turn blood red, and being able to get some sleep after making the decision meant my eyes wouldn’t be bloodshot anymore.

I was busy, but even ants are busy. I was striving to lead a full life, but I was so bogged down with meetings, projects, papers, events, that I wasn’t actually living a life anymore – I was just planning it.

Cavan Reagan is a junior in journalism and mass communication and English from Bellevue, Neb. He is the research assistant for the Daily.