LOOKING AT RESTAURANT MENUS AND THINKING “TOO MANY OPTIONS.”

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Remember the dining hall? The comfortingly predictable rotation of pasta, mystery meat, and that one sad salad bar. You’d grumble, sure, but the biggest decision was usually “fries or tater tots?” Life felt simpler, even amidst all-nighters and impossible deadlines. The sheer lack of choice was, in its own way, a blessing. You knew what you were getting, and often, that was enough. The midnight snack was always a secret mission for stale cookies or leftover pizza, not a global culinary adventure.

Now, years later, armed with degrees from institutions known for cultivating critical thinkers, we stand before an endless digital scroll of global cuisines. Thai, Ethiopian, farm-to-table fusion – the options are staggering. Each menu a novel, each dish a philosophical dilemma. It’s almost as if the universe decided to test our well-honed decision-making skills on something utterly trivial, and we’re failing spectacularly. That feeling of being overwhelmed isn't just about hunger; it's a symptom of a world that demands constant, nuanced choices, a stark contrast to the curated bubble we once inhabited.

Perhaps it’s a form of post-graduation whiplash. From rigorous academic tracks to the wild west of adulting, suddenly even dinner becomes an existential quest. There's a strange longing for the days when "What's for dinner?" had only one answer: "Whatever the cafeteria made." A shared chuckle over this absurdity connects us, doesn't it? It’s a testament to how far we’ve come, and how some small things still resonate deeply from our formative years, reminding us that sometimes, less truly was more.