Through The Ages

            So this is probably my tenth time trying to write a blog since the last time I wrote one. I feel the need to write them but then I don’t know what I want to talk about. But I always seem to think of great ideas when I’m supposed to be doing something else. Like studying for finals for example. When I probably should be doing that, I’m sitting here thinking about what to write about. So what did I get accomplished today? Meanwhile I’m supposed to be studying for finals: I slept in till noon. I sat and watched a Christmas episode of Spongebob. I made three flash cards. I went and got Starbucks. I watched part of a cheesy Christmas movie. I edited Joey’s 12 page paper (my break from “studying”). I took a break after my break from studying to listen to music. I stalked people on Facebook. I sat here and thought about what I wanted to write in a blog. I was supposed to start studying again at 6:15, but that just didn’t happen.

            When I began writing this, I wanted to write once again about how I wish there were more good people in the world. But I’m always going to hope for that and most of it is out of my control anyways so I erased all that I wrote about that. But one thing I’ve been thinking about lately is how much growing up SUCKS balls. I’m sorry. But I really don’t see why everyone my age wants to turn 21 so badly. Or why people younger want to turn 18 so badly. Or 16. Okay, just kidding, I can totally see the 16 one. It is unbelievably nice to be able to drive a car and not have to have your parents take you everywhere.

            Birth: You’re all slimy and sticky and everyone wants to touch you and make sure you’re okay. You may have trouble breathing, or other complications. They might have thought you were a girl, but you were really a boy with a tiny lil guy (down there) so you have to wear pink clothes out of the hospital, and I don’t care how old you are, that’s just embarrassing. You just are an accident waiting to happen. Diapers are almost too big to even wear. And you have no hair. And a large number of you are ugly, me being one of those.

            Two: You’re in this alleged “terrible twos” era where everyone gets annoyed with you. You’re too big to be held and babied all the time but sometimes not big enough to completely get anywhere you need. Oh and you still sometimes shit yourself.

            Five: You’re getting up there. All of the relatives comment on “Aw you’re getting so big!” but hey you get to go to school for half days and play with coodie infested kids who try to steal your damn toys and then blame it on someone else. The teacher is nice, but she only lets you play with your toys on HER terms. Screw that. I wanna go back home where I can play all day long and only have to take time off for naps or eating.

            Eight: You’re in real school now. You have to do all of this “math” shit. No more coloring pictures for assignments. And you’re parents are starting to be too old to even help you with half of it. If you have an “accident” in bed now, you’ll really get made fun of. You have to go to school all day, but at least you get two recesses and lunch with those cool little milk pouches where you can use them as a cannon and squeeze it at that annoying kid that wont shut up at the table. And then you get in trouble by one of the lunch ladies and you get one of your recesses taken away so someone is probably going to take your place on the basketball court and they’ll probably suck.

            Twelve: Wow. You’re in middle school with all of the “big kids” now. You don’t have to be stuck in one class room all day. You decide to try being different then everyone else. You go through that really effing awkward stage where you always look odd. You’re gonna look back on those days and think what the heck was I thinking wearing that out in public, or even owning it for that matter? But you also have to fit in, so you buy all of the trends that everyone else is wearing. Converse and gaucho pants. You put a streak of color in your hair. You start playing sports for school and realize how much dumber those coaches are than you and they don’t know anything. Oh yeah, and you have this thing called “summer homework” now and it sucks. Who the hell gives you homework during the summer. It’s called summer VACATION for a reason people. Sheesh.

            Thirteen: OH EM GEE. You’re a teenager now. You’re not a little kid anymore. You can laugh at all of those little twelve year olds now because they’re so little. Guess what else you get? Hormones, acne, and for girls…well you know what we get stuck with for the rest of our effing lives once a month that turns you into a monster once a month and you no longer EVER know what you want. You want Jimmy this week, and Toby the next. And you’re heart broken when John passes the note to Susie asking her to the dance but not you. And boys, well we know what you get too. It’s not a secret ;)

            Sixteen: The first Big one. You see all of those my super sweet sixteen shows on MTV and ask your parents for one and they say sure and invite all ten of your closest friends over for that rager and totally get that Ferrari you wanted as your first car…ha. Not. That ’98 chevy clunker is close enough. Oh and the greatest thing about having your license? Paying for gas. Mowing all of those lawns in the dead heat of summer, or babysitting those bratty kids for ten hours just to pay for one tank of gas so that you can go to that movie on Friday with all of your friends that everyone goes to but you all waste your money because no one even watches it and everyone is either talking or working up the confidence to hold hands with their newest “boyfriend” or “girlfriend”. Not to mention you have a whole entire HALF of a chapter book to read, and then you have to read the other half next week, and three weeks later you have to have a freaking full two page paper written about what you thought about it. Yikes.

            Seventeen: The same boring crap.

            Eighteen: YAAAAAYYYYYYYY. This is the day you’ve waited for your entire life. You can go out and buy cigars or cigarettes that you don’t smoke. Or the lotto ticket that you wont win. Or go to the casino and lose 20 bucks on one hand. You tell your parents you’re going to go get a tattoo now and tell them that they can’t do anything about it and their response is to pack up your shit, give them the keys to your car, and a pat on the back for good luck out in the real world. So you reluctantly walk defeated back into your room where you pout for an hour and try to scheme up another way to use your new “adulthood”.

            Nineteen: You move out of your house. You’re in college. You realize that it’s nowhere as easy as you expected. You realize that everything you learned is high school is almost completely pointless for this new shit you’re learning and that it did not prepare you even slightly. You realize that you can’t b-s your way through school work anymore. You learn that you actually have to do the work, even though none of it is graded because if you don’t you’ll fail and do you realize how much you are paying to even be here? The dorms are fine, but once you move out into an apartment you think you’ll have so much time and freedom and free space but all you really get is a sucky shower head, you have to clean everything yourself, you have to cook dinner for yourself and you have to pay all of the damn bills.

            That’s as far as I’ve made it. But as I see it, 21 is just me being able to get into the bars, but now I’ll actually have to pay for my own drinks…dammit.

            I make it sound like it was all terrible. Well it wasn’t. It was all a blast. I honestly wish I could be a kid for ever. Truly, I do have it pretty easy right now. Even though I’m paying for college and living myself. I still don’t have too much to complain about yet. But I wouldn’t mind going back to having the life of a kid. It really is carefree and nice. My point is that although there are so many new and cool things to do as you grow up, just appreciate the little worries in life before you get to the big ones. Make and hold on to all of those memories. It’s stressful to think about the future. Even though I know there will be so many great things to happen, there’s nothing quite like the comfort of being a kid, growing up, just having fun. I sometimes forget how fast time is going and it’s nice to look back and think about all of the things that I had, even the seemingly bad ones. All of those things brought me to where I am now and although I miss them, I am happy to just enjoy life and try to take is slow and enjoy it and try not to wish it away.