Chosen

So much of our lives, if you live it the traditional way, is about being chosen, rather than doing the choosing.

Picked for a team. Picked for the best grades. Picked for a position.

You work hard in school, obeying, abiding, and parroting for the distinct goal of being picked by another school for which you, if selected, get the dubious honor of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for the privilege of them choosing you.

Athletes get drafted out of school.

Every kid weeping at the idea that "Hey, I made it!"

Maybe different now with NIL money. But I'm rolling here.

And why?

Because they were chosen.

I have always liked the word. Chosen. Reminds me of Korea.

My point is simple.

One you might guess by now.

Being chosen is all well and good.

We're all chosen, if you think about it.

Apply for jobs. Interview for them. Maybe you get it.

It's an honor just to be nominated is a line I love to say (lol).

I always get it.

But listen.

This is a world of people waiting to be plucked.

Where it should be a world of mother pluckers.

You need to stop with things whose outcome is based upon some other person choosing you.

And you need to be the selector.

You choose, choose, choose you.

There is no better time in our timeline's timeline than now to be the decider in what you do, where you go, and who you will be as you get there.

Now, I'm sympathetic to those who are still in the choose-me ecosystem. 

Who are trying to Neo out.

I get it. I live it (to some degree). It's everywhere.

But validation of worth through external measures is... What's the word I'm searching for? I don't know. 

I remember getting my dream job offer (it's happened a few times now) and being so happy with being chosen. 

You like me. You really like me!!!

Same with school. Same with honors. Same with props. Attaboy, AC. Al, you the man.

Yeah, yeah, I know. 

I know.

I KNOW.

Boy, that sounds pompous, huh?

Tee hee.

Full of myself.

Perhaps.

Old.

Lucky.

Blessed.

Chosen.

If you are the type to believe in Pareto Principles, then you see the 20% (probably much less) choose the 80% (much higher).

And with math being math that means most of you are just hoping you get the call.

While the chosen few got the pick of the litter.

What group you wanna be in?

So what I will leave with you is the question of what are you waiting for?

Who are you waiting for?

Does someone really get to tell you if they pick you or not?

Nah, baby, I pick.

That's what I want you to say.

I pick.

You are the chosen one.

At least, that's how I choose to see it.