This is an unrelenting jumble of ideas that came out in one idea barf. Don't read too deeply, but I'm sure anyone can relate to some of those feelings.
Squeezing My Beergut into a Superhero Costume I came up with
when I was 9. Dreams I still can’t put
to rest.
When the rest collapses, there’s a wasteland outside. Oh you don’t see it. Spring is coming, Spring is come. Like a Toddler learning to talk, I’ll use my
words.
The thing is, there’s just not much left out
there. Oh there are houses I thought I’d
live in by now. There are days to be had
and nostalgia. There are self induced
responsibilities and bills.
Why go outside, I can tackle my tasks in the comfort of my
own ten-year-old sweatpants. I ride a bike for Christ's sake. I live every suburban 16 year old’s nightmare
with little to show, but my bleeding heart screams "first world problems." And I tried to change the world, and I tried
to change the world when I was twenty until the bureaucracy said no.
But habits and the idea of adulthood intervened. Is this what we are, is this what we will
be? Hiding in tv and record
collections. I read that 35% of people
in the UK still sleep with teddy bears.
They have lovers and friends but sleep, tightly grasping an inanimate
symbol of the past. Childhood
Carebears just took over and my eyes are slowly getting
bloodshot, even though I’m sober and it’s 5:12 in the afternoon. I’m listening to music that makes me feel
cool through laptop speakers drinking water out of a beer mug.
I’m a bit under the weather and the world makes us feel
guilty for just laying low. What should
I have gotten done today? Stream of
consciousness from adult me. The 18-year-old I repressed occasionally wants out.
And now I’m going to have a kid at some point, and now I’m going to be a
doctor, and someday I’m going to change the world. I haven’t given up. It’s a good sign I’ve managed to maintain
three cats, a marriage, and a cactus.
Is adulthood really just keeping shit alive? Your relationships, your friendships, you
pets, your music tastes, your dreams? Or
is it a social construction like God or Dubstep? I’m worried about
my health now, I could but don’t eat fast food.
I worry about my future so I’m taking classes to make it better.
Is adulthood never being happy with a Saturday spent in
comic books again? A constant lump in
your throat that you’ve somehow failed.
Failed at what? Complete
sentences, coherent statements.
I apologized the other day for ending a sentence in a preposition. My excuse:
I didn’t get much sleep. And no
one gave a shit. Minutia we cling to
from out youth, grammar, cursive handwriting and ideals.
Poetry that I’ve let go to the wayside for too long and a
stack of books I’ve been saying I’ll read.
Adulthood is knowing that I can crack that stack anytime I want but
deciding I have better things to do. I
just don’t always make the best decisions.
I have a fridge stocked with things I can eat and a wife
that complains when I eat too much candy.
There’s enough coffee and booze in this room to make for one damn epic
night. Instead I’ll settle for Star Trek
reruns, salad, and waking up early to learn the anatomy of bones.
The future’s bright, because Spring is Here and Spring is
here and the sun isn’t setting until 9 pm.
I can go to bed when I want and get up when I want. Just make sure it’s my call.
This is a selfish rant. True, just not seeing all sides, but if I keep trying, I’ll find
myself buried up to my neck in Lego’s with offspring that I still am not sure
why anyone will let me have. There may
be a wasteland outside or maybe its just early evening in the city I've chosen to live in.
See, I'll leave that preposition, I can, I am a card carrying adult and I'm allowed.
Clearly there is wasted time. I
don’t really see an end of it some days, this maybe-imaginary wasteland.
But those are the days when I suck.
Most days I do much better.
Squeezing my beer gut into a super hero costume is how I’m coming to grips shirts with buttons and collars.
