Countless events in my life have come about because of a whim, whether it was me or a family member or friend, just said, “Screw it. Let’s go. Let’s do it.” Often times, this was ill-founded in its support – very rarely were things a sure bet – but that’s what made it all the more magical when it worked out one way or another. And as a result, I’ve very much so become a yes man when it comes to people asking me to do something with them. It began as the attempt to get over the social anxiety my then therapist swore I had and that could be resolved with immersion. I'm not someone to look down upon other people with anxiety disorders, everyone presents differently after all, but I fed into the stigma surrounding it and didn't want to be called a coward.

But the fear of missing out shouldn't be inherently superficial. If you're doing it for the gram, the views on your snapstory, the likes on facebook, you're going about it for all the wrong reasons, because extrinsically doing it will have you feeling envious regardless, in a way that negates what you did, as soon as someone else posts about something they did that you deem cooler or more fun.

So in order to get the most out of it, agreeing to doing something has to be intrinsic, has to positively answer the question: will this enrich my life in some way?

Like this one weekend of Summer 2004 that my dad and I drove from Houston to New Orleans; but he had the idea to keep going and I agreed and we ended up in Atlanta where happenstance had us having dinner at a Hard Rock within a two minute walking distance from an almost sold-out Madonna concert, a lifelong huge family favorite, with exactly two tickets at the box office. Let me tell you she ain't the Queen of Pop just because.

Or my junior year in high school when I mustered up the courage to say I like-liked my first love in a stairwell: a relationship that, even after we broke up, incontrovertibly lead to making a choice that has determined the last several years of my life in all ways personal, fiscal, and career-related since then.

There's the time I impulsively used all my savings to buy a pass for Free Press Summer Fest, drove down to Texas from Penn State, ordered to evacuate for lightning rain on the first day, have it start up again just in time for us to scan our re-entry and see the back of my favorite band's heads casually strolling along near the entrance, unnoticed by everyone else around them but me, and ask them for a picture. When I saw Chvrches' next after a flood in Pittsburgh, I was recognized as the girl from Houston and was kindly offered to have them sign whatever I wanted them to, for braving all sorts for weather in the name of seeing good music. They favorited a follow-up tweet and unceremoniously affirmed my groupie status.

Even just summer last year, I had $38 bucks to my name for what would be an indefinite amount of time, but my best friend and I still went to NYC and had such a fun-filled romp that culminated in a bit of debauchery consisting of an hour-long bottomless brunch, the blind leading the blind, and suddenly coming to and finding myself dancing in the parade alongside the Jewish Queer Youth float all the way down to Christopher Street. Penniless and sore on the drive back, that weekend has singularly set the highest bar for what togetherness should feel like when you're with friends.

It can also be as simple as a few weeks ago when I splurged maybe more than I should have on a birthday dinner, but good god I don't think I've been the same since I ate that duck moulard or saw her enjoy the duck confit. (Frankly I never think twice to drop that kind of money for food promising to be that kind of delicious.) Everything about that night rekindled my love for the food industry.

So don't ever, EVER immediately say no to an idea. I have to constantly remind myself of all the things I would’ve missed if I had said no to trips, turned down a party, applied to a different job -- how these seemingly tiny decisions created giant ripple effects, whose origins became infamous stories, whose significance carry indelible emotions. FOMO hasn't lead me to a thousand followers on social media, and I don't care for it to, but I'll be damned if I say yes to something without having the smallest hope it'll leave some sort of mark on my life.