I spent all of the time we had in class writing out a rant about theatre, and then I realized that it wasn't interesting at all to anyone who isn't me.
So I deleted it.
Instead, I have been racking my brain trying to come up with a good conclusion to the semester before we dive headfirst into finals and suffering. I also got nothing. I could write about writing a blog, but that's boring and unoriginal, so I'll stop now.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. Whoever is reading this is probably just looking for somewhere to comment to get a grade, and then they will move on with their lives. If I write the most awe-inspiring post ever, I would at most get two minutes of your time in thoughts, maybe even a praise in person. But then people move on to the fast-paced lives that everyone leads today, with our rapid consumption of media and overwhelming amounts of information at once. For example, right now, I'm writing this post while listening to music. Before working on this I was finishing another assignment, and as soon as this is posted I will move on to something else I must get done.
No, this is not a criticism of the amount of work we have, because I also spent two hours in my bed going from scrolling through my phone -- again consuming information at an alarming rate -- and then staring at the ceiling to give myself a break from the day. Because while older generations tend to blame social media for the small attention-span of the younger generations, I think it just so happens that our lives are more filled now than they used to be. Everyday I call my mom and give her the bullet points of my day, and even though I leave most of my day untold, it still manages to amaze her. Just today I: went to Edison Middle School for my Gender Studies project and did an interview; rode on a cop car on the way back (long story); went to the first rehearsal for the thespian show; listened to my favorite musician again in a long time; and I had so many conversations with such different and interesting people that I can't even begin to put them all on paper (I know this isn't paper, but go with it). But if you ask me at 6:30 PM how my day was I'm just going to say "good," because I'm so tired that I need a moment to finish absorbing everything that happened.
And that is what I'm saying happens whether we want it to or not. We absorb information so quickly that sometimes we don't even notice it, and other times we don't allow it to sit with us for very long, and that's fine. It's not that we should attempt to stop and observe everything, you can if you want to, but that's very hard. What I'm saying is that we can take this fact and use it in our advantage, and remind ourselves that what we do doesn't matter. You tripped in front of the random hot stranger in the street? They probably didn't see it. You laughed a little weirdly and feel like everyone is staring at you? Even if they did notice, someone else is going to change the subject completely in 30 seconds. You wrote a very mediocre blog post while pretending that you had a point the entire time and you've reached the end of not only this post but of the blog in general and now you have no clue how to finish it off? Let's face it, most people who started reading this post didn't last until now, and the ones who did are just as tired as you and probably feel your struggles too. So at the end of the day, the nihilism behind "nothing matters" can be quite a freeing ideology, when handled well.
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Story Time
For this week, I want to relax and just tell you guys some stories about me. So sit down, grab a cup of cocoa (get it?), and allow me to just talk about myself for a while.
When I was about three years old, my mother and I lived in my grandmother's house after my parents split up while my mother was job-hunting. The architecture of my grandma's house was an interesting one. Downstairs there was the kitchen, the living room, and a bathroom, and upstairs there was a bedroom and a bathroom. However, in order to get upstairs, you had to physically leave the house, and take the staircase that was built off of the front wall, through the outside of the house. So one side of the stairs was the wall, and the other side was wide open for a free fall into the trees. This is all background information for you to get an idea of why I, as a 3-year-old toddler, was not allowed on the stairs alone.
So one day, my mom was in the kitchen, and I came in asking for my pacifier. "In a minute," she said, because she was busy. A while later I asked again, and got the same response. Then again. Now keep in mind that this story was told to me by my mother, so it's from her point of view. After a while, she noticed that I had stopped asking, so she went looking for me. I wasn't in the kitchen, I wasn't in the living room, I wasn't in the bathroom. She walked outside, and I wasn't out in the garden either. She looked up and saw, with her own two eyes of a single mother, her baby, about 20 feet from the ground, crawling backwards down the stairs (so my butt was pointed towards the bottom of the staircase leading the rest of my body), with the pacifier in my mouth. I was not injured.
Another time, I was about the same age, we were living in the same house, my hair was getting long. Now, let me tell you that before I was able to voice my opinion on it, I had a very Dora-like hairstyle. This meant bangs down to my eyebrows and shoulder length hair in an almost bowl-cut fashion. My mom hadn't had time to take me to get my hair cut, so my bangs were starting to fall into my eyes. One day she says, more to herself than to me, "When I take you to get a haircut, I'll trim just a little bit on the front, and just a little bit on the back." As time went on, I became more bothered by my hair on my face. One day, my mom walks into our shared room and sees me, sitting on the floor, holding a pair of scissors, with hair all around me. When I saw her I said, "Look Mommy! I cut just a little bit on the front (I gestured towards my nonexistent bangs) and just a little bit on the back (I gesture towards the random cuts I did on the back of my head without looking)." I was also not injured, but my mother had to wait two months for my hair to grow enough in order to take me to the salon to fix it.
My last anecdote happened a little bit before the other two. I was two years old, when my parents were still together, and they were trying to teach me to swim; more specifically, to hold my breath long enough for them to immerse me into the water completely. They had talked to some friends who had kids who gave them this advice: you tell the child you're going to lower them on the count of three, count to three, and do it. After a few times they'll understand they're supposed to hold their breath. Listening to that advice now, to me it sounds like bullshit, but my parents had to try it, they had nothing better. Oh boy, and tried they did indeed! Two hours in the pool everyday for three days, and all they managed to do was make me choke on the water and cry. They even tried demonstrating what I was supposed to do by holding their breaths, but I just didn't want to. One day, my father tells my mom that he has an idea. So before they tried the whole ritual again he turns to me and says, "If you plunge into the water, I'll buy you a lollipop," and without missing a beat, I sucked in my breath and threw my head into the water. I, yet again, was not injured nor did I choke or cry.
Now, even though I kinda wanted to tie this all into a message along the lines of "if you want something, go get it," I won't do that. These are just some funny anecdotes about how I was like as a smol bean, and how I hope some of that spirit has remained with me today. I also hope this brought a smile to your faces, and feel free to share your own funny personal anecdotes in the comments and we can all laugh at how silly babies are!
When I was about three years old, my mother and I lived in my grandmother's house after my parents split up while my mother was job-hunting. The architecture of my grandma's house was an interesting one. Downstairs there was the kitchen, the living room, and a bathroom, and upstairs there was a bedroom and a bathroom. However, in order to get upstairs, you had to physically leave the house, and take the staircase that was built off of the front wall, through the outside of the house. So one side of the stairs was the wall, and the other side was wide open for a free fall into the trees. This is all background information for you to get an idea of why I, as a 3-year-old toddler, was not allowed on the stairs alone.
So one day, my mom was in the kitchen, and I came in asking for my pacifier. "In a minute," she said, because she was busy. A while later I asked again, and got the same response. Then again. Now keep in mind that this story was told to me by my mother, so it's from her point of view. After a while, she noticed that I had stopped asking, so she went looking for me. I wasn't in the kitchen, I wasn't in the living room, I wasn't in the bathroom. She walked outside, and I wasn't out in the garden either. She looked up and saw, with her own two eyes of a single mother, her baby, about 20 feet from the ground, crawling backwards down the stairs (so my butt was pointed towards the bottom of the staircase leading the rest of my body), with the pacifier in my mouth. I was not injured.
Another time, I was about the same age, we were living in the same house, my hair was getting long. Now, let me tell you that before I was able to voice my opinion on it, I had a very Dora-like hairstyle. This meant bangs down to my eyebrows and shoulder length hair in an almost bowl-cut fashion. My mom hadn't had time to take me to get my hair cut, so my bangs were starting to fall into my eyes. One day she says, more to herself than to me, "When I take you to get a haircut, I'll trim just a little bit on the front, and just a little bit on the back." As time went on, I became more bothered by my hair on my face. One day, my mom walks into our shared room and sees me, sitting on the floor, holding a pair of scissors, with hair all around me. When I saw her I said, "Look Mommy! I cut just a little bit on the front (I gestured towards my nonexistent bangs) and just a little bit on the back (I gesture towards the random cuts I did on the back of my head without looking)." I was also not injured, but my mother had to wait two months for my hair to grow enough in order to take me to the salon to fix it.
My last anecdote happened a little bit before the other two. I was two years old, when my parents were still together, and they were trying to teach me to swim; more specifically, to hold my breath long enough for them to immerse me into the water completely. They had talked to some friends who had kids who gave them this advice: you tell the child you're going to lower them on the count of three, count to three, and do it. After a few times they'll understand they're supposed to hold their breath. Listening to that advice now, to me it sounds like bullshit, but my parents had to try it, they had nothing better. Oh boy, and tried they did indeed! Two hours in the pool everyday for three days, and all they managed to do was make me choke on the water and cry. They even tried demonstrating what I was supposed to do by holding their breaths, but I just didn't want to. One day, my father tells my mom that he has an idea. So before they tried the whole ritual again he turns to me and says, "If you plunge into the water, I'll buy you a lollipop," and without missing a beat, I sucked in my breath and threw my head into the water. I, yet again, was not injured nor did I choke or cry.
Now, even though I kinda wanted to tie this all into a message along the lines of "if you want something, go get it," I won't do that. These are just some funny anecdotes about how I was like as a smol bean, and how I hope some of that spirit has remained with me today. I also hope this brought a smile to your faces, and feel free to share your own funny personal anecdotes in the comments and we can all laugh at how silly babies are!
Thursday, October 25, 2018
the real scare
I guess I should write about Halloween, since I won't have another chance to. Here's the thing: I absolutely love Halloween, every bit of it. I love the haunted houses, the spooky movies, the pumpkin carving, and the apple cider. I love decorating for Halloween, and picking a costume, and I did love trick-or-treating before I started getting snarky remarks for being too old. But I feel like I have had to put that love on pause this year, because I'm busy all the time. It's gotten to a point where my mother made the comment: "You're so busy you don't even have time to think."
When I say "think" I actually mean "daydream." You see, every now and then the thought that Halloween is coming up does cross my mind, but that's about it before my brain has to move on to more pressing topics. College apps are the obvious monster in this story, and as I like to joke about sometimes: Halloween is nothing compared to the Day of the Dead, Nov. 1.
My head feels like it's empty all the time. I have been trying to write this blog post for much longer than I usually spend on blog posts, and I have run out of things to say. For blog posts I usually do the opposite from my other writing-related assignments. Instead of becoming a "content machine," producing sentences upon sentences of well-written and coherent ideas, I turn my brain off. For blog posts, I mute all my thoughts and allow my stream of consciousness to take its course, and I just type out a neat version of that. Right now, my stream of consciousness is a list of what I need to finish interspersed with yelling. I don't want to write that, and I don't think anyone would enjoy reading it.
So for this week, I just want to say to anyone reading this, Happy Halloween. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you all get to watch some spooky movies and eat lots of candy. Enjoy the festivities of this random holiday in the middle of the semester, because in another month we get Thanksgiving and then Christmas, and they're not as good as Halloween.
When I say "think" I actually mean "daydream." You see, every now and then the thought that Halloween is coming up does cross my mind, but that's about it before my brain has to move on to more pressing topics. College apps are the obvious monster in this story, and as I like to joke about sometimes: Halloween is nothing compared to the Day of the Dead, Nov. 1.
My head feels like it's empty all the time. I have been trying to write this blog post for much longer than I usually spend on blog posts, and I have run out of things to say. For blog posts I usually do the opposite from my other writing-related assignments. Instead of becoming a "content machine," producing sentences upon sentences of well-written and coherent ideas, I turn my brain off. For blog posts, I mute all my thoughts and allow my stream of consciousness to take its course, and I just type out a neat version of that. Right now, my stream of consciousness is a list of what I need to finish interspersed with yelling. I don't want to write that, and I don't think anyone would enjoy reading it.
So for this week, I just want to say to anyone reading this, Happy Halloween. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you all get to watch some spooky movies and eat lots of candy. Enjoy the festivities of this random holiday in the middle of the semester, because in another month we get Thanksgiving and then Christmas, and they're not as good as Halloween.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Didney!
(Yes, I know the title is misspelled. One time I accidentally wrote Didney instead and I thought it was so funny that I just call it Didney now...)
I've been listening to Disney songs a lot recently. A while ago on my birthday I felt like singing along to Disney, so I made a playlist for myself, and it just kind of existed for two weeks since then. A few days ago I saw the playlist, and out of lack of anything else to listen to, I put it on.
I've been listening to Disney songs a lot recently. A while ago on my birthday I felt like singing along to Disney, so I made a playlist for myself, and it just kind of existed for two weeks since then. A few days ago I saw the playlist, and out of lack of anything else to listen to, I put it on.
Now, some may know that the month of October is a stressful one for seniors, for unknown reasons, and at least I feel like at any point I might shatter like a porcelain doll. But that's just me... However, whenever I'm listening to Disney songs I get surprisingly calm. I'm not saying that my problems suddenly disappear and I become a kid again, I wish. What I mean is that the fantasy that Disney seems to put behind every note has a curing vibe. It's like the song is telling me that if I just breathe through it I'll be fine.
There are also so many themes in any one song, they're not all just "happy, happy, happy." For example, one of my favorites is Hercules' Won't Say I'm in Love. In it, Meg keeps saying she won't fall for Hercules because she's been heartbroken before, which sounds like it would be a relatively somber song. Except, there's the muses in the background saying that they know she is already hooked, and they're so sassy and fun that it counteracts Meg's words. Furthermore, she finishes the song by saying, "At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love," which gives a nice positive finishing touch to the whole thing. So many Disney songs do things like this, where they incorporate many different emotions into one song, but they still turn out positive.
If we want to do the Uni student thing and overanalyze the situation, this could all turn out to be a metaphor to how our senior year is going: overall pain and heartbreak, with some sarcastic humor, but it all turns out fine at the end.
But you know what? I don't wanna do that. I'm not going to look at everything with the idea that there has to be something bigger. I'm just saying, Disney is a pure form of entertainment that can hug you through song, and makes me feel slightly better about myself. So I recommend, if you were once an avid Disney fan, find your favorite songs and give it a try.
For anyone who's curious, here's my playlist:
Won't Say I'm in Love (Hercules), Almost There (Princess and the Frog), I'll Make a Man Out of You (Mulan), Dig a Little Deeper (Princess and the Frog), A Girl Worth Fighting for (Mulan), Friends on the Other Side (Princess and the Frog), The Gospel Truth (Hercules), Never Had a Friend like Me (Alladin), It's Tough to be a God (The Road to El Dorado), Be Our Guest (Beauty and the Beast), I've Got a Dream (Tangled), Under the Sea (Little Mermaid), Mother Knows Best (Tangled), Hakuna Matata (Lion King), Zero to Hero (Hercules), How Far I'll Go (Moana), Shiny (Moana), Hawaiian Roller Coaster (Lilo & Stitch), Poor Unfortunate Souls (Little Mermaid), I See the Light (Tangled).
There are also so many themes in any one song, they're not all just "happy, happy, happy." For example, one of my favorites is Hercules' Won't Say I'm in Love. In it, Meg keeps saying she won't fall for Hercules because she's been heartbroken before, which sounds like it would be a relatively somber song. Except, there's the muses in the background saying that they know she is already hooked, and they're so sassy and fun that it counteracts Meg's words. Furthermore, she finishes the song by saying, "At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love," which gives a nice positive finishing touch to the whole thing. So many Disney songs do things like this, where they incorporate many different emotions into one song, but they still turn out positive.
If we want to do the Uni student thing and overanalyze the situation, this could all turn out to be a metaphor to how our senior year is going: overall pain and heartbreak, with some sarcastic humor, but it all turns out fine at the end.
But you know what? I don't wanna do that. I'm not going to look at everything with the idea that there has to be something bigger. I'm just saying, Disney is a pure form of entertainment that can hug you through song, and makes me feel slightly better about myself. So I recommend, if you were once an avid Disney fan, find your favorite songs and give it a try.
For anyone who's curious, here's my playlist:
Won't Say I'm in Love (Hercules), Almost There (Princess and the Frog), I'll Make a Man Out of You (Mulan), Dig a Little Deeper (Princess and the Frog), A Girl Worth Fighting for (Mulan), Friends on the Other Side (Princess and the Frog), The Gospel Truth (Hercules), Never Had a Friend like Me (Alladin), It's Tough to be a God (The Road to El Dorado), Be Our Guest (Beauty and the Beast), I've Got a Dream (Tangled), Under the Sea (Little Mermaid), Mother Knows Best (Tangled), Hakuna Matata (Lion King), Zero to Hero (Hercules), How Far I'll Go (Moana), Shiny (Moana), Hawaiian Roller Coaster (Lilo & Stitch), Poor Unfortunate Souls (Little Mermaid), I See the Light (Tangled).
Thursday, September 27, 2018
IT'S MY BIRTHDAY
That's right, today I am young and sweet, only seventeen, though I've been a dancing queen for a few years now. I've often read and heard people talk about their birthdays in very different ways than I do. There's those who hate getting older, are afraid of the future, feel they have wasted their lives up to now, or don't want to create expectations for a day that is just like all the others. While I see where these people are coming from, and I think that's totally valid, that's not at all me. Today, I choose to be happy. Actually, almost every day I choose to be happy, but if that doesn't always work out, I accept it. Not today, because on my birthday I am determined to have a good day. Once in 7th grade I allowed the day of my birthday not be such a great day and I still regret that.
So today, I will wear an outfit that I feel sexy and comfortable in. I will go out for dinner. Most importantly, I will put the struggles of life on hold for 24 hours and enjoy the one day that society gives me for no real reason. If I don't make an effort to be happy today, I won't be, because I end up spiraling into an existential crisis about how shallow and useless birthdays are. So today I am the physical embodiment of the phrase "fuck it".
I'm not saying I will be miserable if I don't try, but today has the potential to be a bad day. I have rehearsal until 7PM (this has been the case all week) without cast dinners, and next week is tech week. Today is also the deadline for Questbridge, and Lisa Micele is in New York until Monday, so I had to finish it without her help. Stress and lack of sleep are definitely on the table.
However, last Saturday, my life took a surprising turn. That makes it sound like I won the lottery, which, it felt like that, but it doesn't have as big of an impact. On Saturday morning I was woken up by my bedroom door opening. I thought I was dreaming, I was convinced, because my mother was there. My mother, who last I heard was 5,000 miles away in Brazil! She was in my room! We had brunch, spent all of Saturday shopping, and then we went to the movies. It was a dream come true. Throughout the week she has been helping me with college stuff and generally maintaining sanity.
So regardless of what else life throws at me today, I can handle it and be happy, not only because my mother is here with me, but because I chose to.
So today, I will wear an outfit that I feel sexy and comfortable in. I will go out for dinner. Most importantly, I will put the struggles of life on hold for 24 hours and enjoy the one day that society gives me for no real reason. If I don't make an effort to be happy today, I won't be, because I end up spiraling into an existential crisis about how shallow and useless birthdays are. So today I am the physical embodiment of the phrase "fuck it".
I'm not saying I will be miserable if I don't try, but today has the potential to be a bad day. I have rehearsal until 7PM (this has been the case all week) without cast dinners, and next week is tech week. Today is also the deadline for Questbridge, and Lisa Micele is in New York until Monday, so I had to finish it without her help. Stress and lack of sleep are definitely on the table.
However, last Saturday, my life took a surprising turn. That makes it sound like I won the lottery, which, it felt like that, but it doesn't have as big of an impact. On Saturday morning I was woken up by my bedroom door opening. I thought I was dreaming, I was convinced, because my mother was there. My mother, who last I heard was 5,000 miles away in Brazil! She was in my room! We had brunch, spent all of Saturday shopping, and then we went to the movies. It was a dream come true. Throughout the week she has been helping me with college stuff and generally maintaining sanity.
So regardless of what else life throws at me today, I can handle it and be happy, not only because my mother is here with me, but because I chose to.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
don't get sick, it sucks
I don't get sick. That's just a fact about me that I always carry with me, because it's true. It's very difficult for me to get sick. I always eat my fruits and veggies, I try my best to sleep well, and I try to get some sunlight every now and then. However, I still got sick this week!
Then I realized something. The thing we forget about health is that our mental, physical, and emotional states are all connected, and impact each other. If you're too stressed at school and constantly frying your brain, or if you're heartbroken, or if you never relax, you will get sick. Sickness is your body's way of telling you something's wrong, and you can have all of the physical stuff in order, if the other two are out of wack, you're still vulnerable.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that while we pay attention to not share drinks, and don't hug sick people, and stay home when we're feeling bad, it's all pointless without the mental and emotional. That doesn't mean that the other stuff isn't important, it is. I fully support the ideas expressed in Dr. Majerus' Limerick: A Sickly Student. I'm just saying, that's not the only thing.
So, every now and again, allow yourself to cry , get back into that hobby that you've been putting off, take a walk outside, talk to a friend, and not think about your homework for a bit. Even if you feel fine, and the work is not stressing you, it's still beneficial to step out a little bit.
And always remember to DRINK WATER.
Then I realized something. The thing we forget about health is that our mental, physical, and emotional states are all connected, and impact each other. If you're too stressed at school and constantly frying your brain, or if you're heartbroken, or if you never relax, you will get sick. Sickness is your body's way of telling you something's wrong, and you can have all of the physical stuff in order, if the other two are out of wack, you're still vulnerable.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that while we pay attention to not share drinks, and don't hug sick people, and stay home when we're feeling bad, it's all pointless without the mental and emotional. That doesn't mean that the other stuff isn't important, it is. I fully support the ideas expressed in Dr. Majerus' Limerick: A Sickly Student. I'm just saying, that's not the only thing.
So, every now and again, allow yourself to cry , get back into that hobby that you've been putting off, take a walk outside, talk to a friend, and not think about your homework for a bit. Even if you feel fine, and the work is not stressing you, it's still beneficial to step out a little bit.
And always remember to DRINK WATER.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
"adulting"
You always hear it on not-that-funny romcoms, or TV shows,trying to prove that they're funny because the characters, who are clearly fully grown, aren't actually adults. They'll have a joke, or a dialogue, or even a whole scene, dedicated to how much they hate the word "adulting". They'll talk about how there's really nothing different, and how saying that they're adults only makes them feel old.
I respectfully disagree. Being an adult has nothing to do with age. In fact, almost nothing in life does. It's about mentality. I feel like in some areas of my life, I am an adult. I catch the bus back home at the end of the day trying to remember if I took the chicken out of the freezer for dinner; if I have time, I'll wash all the dishes in the sink whenever it starts to accumulate; and I always make sure to eat at least 3 fruits a day whenever possible. In most aspects of my life, I think and act like and adult, because I've had to.
However, in whatever areas I don't have to, I fight it as much as I possibly can. At school, I sometimes walk around barefoot on the first floor, even though I've been told off before; unless I'm working, I avoid sitting in chairs "normally"; in rehearsal, I always take my dramatic side over the top, and make unnecessary jokes that put us way behind schedule, just to get a few laughs. In a lot of aspects of my life, I allow myself to be childish, because I've had to.
If I could spend the rest of my life falling asleep on the couch and magically waking up in my bed, I would. If I never had to make chocolate milk for myself, and could instead have my mom do it, in whatever way it is that moms do that just tastes so much better, I would. If I could go to fancy restaurants and not be expected to just sit still for 2 hours, but instead, wander over to the playground and run around, I think I would. Maybe.
But those who do face life head on, whether it be at 15 when living alone for the first time, or at 40 when their parents throw them out of the basement, it's not usually something we choose. It's something that comes from the choices we make.
"Not everything comes along just when we want it. There are times when decisions just have to be made, or you certainly will miss out." That line is from one of my favorite movies, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and I think it perfectly represents what "adulting" is. We carve our path through life from the choices we make, and those choices require certain behaviors from us, and whether we accept those or not is what determines if we are "adulting".
In order to fully be adults, we have to choose to accept the responsibilities. Don't make me quote Spider-man, but Uncle Ben had a point. I accept that parts of me are adult-like, because I made a choice to live without my mom, and that required me to grow up. And while I never chose to be an adult, I accepted it as the "Terms and Conditions" for other decisions in my life.
So if you want to spend your life just going out drinking with your buddies and talking about how much you "hate this adult life," that's up to you, but that is not "adulting". That is living out a sitcom, where no one ever goes to work, but they all have fancy apartments and great food all the time. However, if I have to learn to separate white clothes from colored ones in order to get where I want to go, then I will.
I respectfully disagree. Being an adult has nothing to do with age. In fact, almost nothing in life does. It's about mentality. I feel like in some areas of my life, I am an adult. I catch the bus back home at the end of the day trying to remember if I took the chicken out of the freezer for dinner; if I have time, I'll wash all the dishes in the sink whenever it starts to accumulate; and I always make sure to eat at least 3 fruits a day whenever possible. In most aspects of my life, I think and act like and adult, because I've had to.
However, in whatever areas I don't have to, I fight it as much as I possibly can. At school, I sometimes walk around barefoot on the first floor, even though I've been told off before; unless I'm working, I avoid sitting in chairs "normally"; in rehearsal, I always take my dramatic side over the top, and make unnecessary jokes that put us way behind schedule, just to get a few laughs. In a lot of aspects of my life, I allow myself to be childish, because I've had to.
If I could spend the rest of my life falling asleep on the couch and magically waking up in my bed, I would. If I never had to make chocolate milk for myself, and could instead have my mom do it, in whatever way it is that moms do that just tastes so much better, I would. If I could go to fancy restaurants and not be expected to just sit still for 2 hours, but instead, wander over to the playground and run around, I think I would. Maybe.
But those who do face life head on, whether it be at 15 when living alone for the first time, or at 40 when their parents throw them out of the basement, it's not usually something we choose. It's something that comes from the choices we make.
"Not everything comes along just when we want it. There are times when decisions just have to be made, or you certainly will miss out." That line is from one of my favorite movies, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and I think it perfectly represents what "adulting" is. We carve our path through life from the choices we make, and those choices require certain behaviors from us, and whether we accept those or not is what determines if we are "adulting".
In order to fully be adults, we have to choose to accept the responsibilities. Don't make me quote Spider-man, but Uncle Ben had a point. I accept that parts of me are adult-like, because I made a choice to live without my mom, and that required me to grow up. And while I never chose to be an adult, I accepted it as the "Terms and Conditions" for other decisions in my life.
So if you want to spend your life just going out drinking with your buddies and talking about how much you "hate this adult life," that's up to you, but that is not "adulting". That is living out a sitcom, where no one ever goes to work, but they all have fancy apartments and great food all the time. However, if I have to learn to separate white clothes from colored ones in order to get where I want to go, then I will.
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