Then there's the whole problem of choice. Goddamit. We like to think having choices makes us happy. But we now know the great paradox about that, don't we? That the more choices we have, in general, the less happy we seem to be. Because there's the fear of making the "wrong" choice. And there's the regret that comes with making a bad one. And, of course, in a certain time and place, every choice can seem like a bad one. At root, I think is the illusion of control we like to maintain—that we have power over our lives and that our choices give us this power. That we determine our fate, in part, through the decisions we make. And shit, when you think of it like that, it's paralyzing, isn't it?

It's why I like to feel the burden of self-imposed boundaries. It's also why I like to be addicted to things. Because when you're addicted to things, when you set up boundaries for yourself, you remove the element of choice from your day. When you're operating under compulsion, you take away the risk of making the wrong decision. Because it's already been made. Long ago. And now you're just carrying through, brother. And I'm good at the carry-through.

Everybody sets up these boundaries for themselves. Some people call the construct of boundaries "religion." Some people call it "the law." Some people go green, or vegan, or organic, or sans gluten...or only the orange ones, daddy, only the orange ones. At root, though, they're all the same—huge constructs of self-imposed limits, of socially-shared burdens, which help people whittle down the decisions they have to make and at the same time feel like they're participating in something larger than their own isolated, random preference. If I believe I will be healthier by using all-natural shampoo and eating organic, free-range chickens that were raised on a farm where at least 15 percent of the diet is flies and all the people working there are left-handed, well that helps me decide which products among the hundreds out there I will pick up the next time I go to the store. And if other people share this belief with me, well that just reinforces my decision and helps me feel...right. Bonus. (Just to be clear, my shampoo ain't natural. But my chicken sure is organic and free-ranging, doncha know. I compromise on the left-handed thing.)

I listened to a great Radio Lab episode on choice recently. There was this story about a guy who, because of an injury to his brain, had lost the ability to experience emotion. And the gist of the thing was, hey, wouldn't this make him a better decision maker? If you think in terms of Star Trek, which I have to admit sometimes I do, this would be the equivalent of being a Vulcan. Without emotion, you'd be hyper-rational. And the usual logic, um...dictates...that this would allow you to be a better decision maker. Well the irony in the Radio Lab piece (and there's pretty much always an irony in Radio Lab pieces) was this: without emotion, this person actually lost the ability to make a decision at all. About anything. Because he was constantly rationalizing. Should he use the pen with the blue ink or black ink? Should he buy Grape Nuts or Wheaties...or the Honey Nut Cheerios? For a person who can only be rational, these seemingly simple decisions become impossible. And so he became paralyzed by them. It turns out we need emotion. Because in the end, some things can't be rationalized. In the end, we have to go with something.

Moses and I are grilling free-range chicken in my back yard. He spits in the grass and takes a drag on a fat cigar. Honey is next to us waiting for the drop of deliciousness that's sure to come.

"Maybe I suffer from a lack of emotion," I tell him.

"Maybe you're deciding not to choose," says Moses. "How's that working out for you?"

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