I did an idiotic thing the other day.

On what amounted to little more than a dare between a few friends, we all, in our infinite wisdom, decided to pierce both of our ears. This decision, remarkably, was not made in a drunken stupor. Were this the case, it would be easier to justify. But, alas, no, this was merely an impulsive decision, made knowing full well that the result would be the douche-y appearance I have since donned.

Now, I have two absurdly large faux-diamond studs in my ears and, in all honesty, I’m keeping them. Not because I look good or because it was a good decision, but because I think it’s kind of funny.

What I can extract from this circumstance, this particular instance of dumbassery, is the fun in impulsiveness, in spontaneity.

There is something inherently monotonous about what we do in day-to-day life; hell, that’s why the term day-to-day life exists. It is used as a catchall phrase to describe the things we do everyday that are deemed so ordinary and so routine as to not be worthy of mentioning.

Now, these routine tasks are in no means something to be avoided because, obviously, they have a purpose, and, incidentally, they do not land you the title of Jersey Shore look-alike on the fourth  floor of Jewett. But, something must be said for breaking from routine, doing things that may not make all that much sense and getting a story out of it.

Drunken people understand this concept exceptionally well, which is why many a morning detective has emerged with stories gruesome, hilarious or pretty much legendary. Unfortunately they perhaps take it a bit too far, which is why sober people should practice impulsiveness responsibly. This cunning strategy nets the hilarity of the story without the possibility of waking up to find you razed Olin to the ground.

What it comes down to is that impulse makes your life worth relating to people. What stories do we tell people we have just met? Do we talk about that one time we went to class, sat through it in silence, went home and went to bed? Hell no we don’t. We tell stories of the dumbest, most singularly idiotic and spectacular of the things we have done.

We talk about things that, on the surface, we wish we hadn’t done, or at least wonder why we did. We do this, but then, we come to recognize ourselves through these things, through these impulsive exaggerations of our own personalities. In a way then, impulsive decisions are part of what makes a person worth knowing, if a person is only as good as the stories they tell, which, in some cases, is true, then there is much to be gained in acting on impulse.

Life slows back down to monotony when too much time is spent deliberating about everything you do. If everyone thought everything through, where would be the hilarious tattoos? The bungee jumping? The skydiving? If you agree with Jack London when he says, “The proper function of a man is to live, not to exist,” then you can see the essence of what it is to follow impulse and act spontaneously. What you’re doing when you jump out of that plane, when you do a gainer off that cliff, is not settling with existing but rather, living.