I am Running Away to Join the Circus, So Don't Wait Up....
Most days I don't feel like a grown up - in fact on those days, I sit waiting for someone to call me out as a faker. Some sort of "adult poser". I think today is one of those days. When am I supposed to stop saying "When I grow up?" Is there some sort of right of passage? Did it already happen and I missed it? Will I know when I have grown up? And more importantly, what does it feel like to be a grown up?
When I was young, I always thought that grown ups did grown up things and talked about grown up stuff. I imagined they spent alot of time discussing oil prices or their spouses while sipping expensive martinis out of fancy glasses, careful not to smudge their lipstick.
Now that I am one of those "grown ups", I sure as hell don't spend my time like that. I don't wear lipstick, and I don't drink martinis out of fancy glasses. I am a Corona and lime kind of girl. And I like my beer right out of the bottle.
There are times when I do discuss "grown-up" stuff, but it is more likely that you will find me arguing why Christian Bale was a better Batman than Val Kilmer with my friends..... or whether The Bravery should be considered rock or new wave.
In fact, I still get drunk, run around till 3 am and sleep in late whenever I can. I wear Doc Martens and my Everyone Loves an Irish Girl t shirt. I download BRU's song playlist to my mp3 player, religiously.
I'm not sure what being a grownup is supposed to feel like. Most of the time I feel like I am stumbling through this thing called life like some sort of klutz, trying not to trip over anyone in the process.
Things just seem hard right now. Things seem sucky and it is made worse by the fact that I don't feel especially grown up at the moment. I don't feel very spanko either and I could care less about my kink or my journey or anything associated with it. To hell with it all. It all seems too damn hard.
I have these days sometimes when I feel like the world doesn't understand me and I don't understand the world. And I have days when I just don't feel grown up. I have days when I want to run away from everything and watch it all from a distance.
My friends say a road trip is in order. They know that I want to run away. That I need to run away. And they, like they always do, are going to help me. I wouldn't expect anything less from them.
As I type this, my house is bustling even though it is almost midnight. The car is being packed (well sort of, in between heated discussions over packing techniques), music is being downloaded (well sort of, once I finish typing this blog entry), CDs are being burned, and there also seems to be some sort of fusball tournament going on, although I can't be sure over all of the yelling.
There used to be five of us that would go on a road trip..... to help me run away. Now we are seven and tomorrow morning we are heading to the Big E.
The Big E means carnival rides and rock climbing walls. It means mardi gras parades and circus acts. It means exhibits, carnie games and enough fair food to turn your stomach.
It means several hours in the back of A's van. And cheese curls and warm gatorade. And new music mixes...... and long, torturous games of punchbuggy.......and impromptu skating in various rest stops along the way.
Tomorrow I am running away to the circus in the back of an old van, armed only with a pair of inline skates, a bag of cheese curls, several bottles of warm gatorade, and surrounded by people who love me. Not a bad deal if you ask me. Not a bad deal at all.
When I was young, I always thought that grown ups did grown up things and talked about grown up stuff. I imagined they spent alot of time discussing oil prices or their spouses while sipping expensive martinis out of fancy glasses, careful not to smudge their lipstick.
Now that I am one of those "grown ups", I sure as hell don't spend my time like that. I don't wear lipstick, and I don't drink martinis out of fancy glasses. I am a Corona and lime kind of girl. And I like my beer right out of the bottle.
There are times when I do discuss "grown-up" stuff, but it is more likely that you will find me arguing why Christian Bale was a better Batman than Val Kilmer with my friends..... or whether The Bravery should be considered rock or new wave.
In fact, I still get drunk, run around till 3 am and sleep in late whenever I can. I wear Doc Martens and my Everyone Loves an Irish Girl t shirt. I download BRU's song playlist to my mp3 player, religiously.
I'm not sure what being a grownup is supposed to feel like. Most of the time I feel like I am stumbling through this thing called life like some sort of klutz, trying not to trip over anyone in the process.
Things just seem hard right now. Things seem sucky and it is made worse by the fact that I don't feel especially grown up at the moment. I don't feel very spanko either and I could care less about my kink or my journey or anything associated with it. To hell with it all. It all seems too damn hard.
I have these days sometimes when I feel like the world doesn't understand me and I don't understand the world. And I have days when I just don't feel grown up. I have days when I want to run away from everything and watch it all from a distance.
My friends say a road trip is in order. They know that I want to run away. That I need to run away. And they, like they always do, are going to help me. I wouldn't expect anything less from them.
As I type this, my house is bustling even though it is almost midnight. The car is being packed (well sort of, in between heated discussions over packing techniques), music is being downloaded (well sort of, once I finish typing this blog entry), CDs are being burned, and there also seems to be some sort of fusball tournament going on, although I can't be sure over all of the yelling.
There used to be five of us that would go on a road trip..... to help me run away. Now we are seven and tomorrow morning we are heading to the Big E.
The Big E means carnival rides and rock climbing walls. It means mardi gras parades and circus acts. It means exhibits, carnie games and enough fair food to turn your stomach.
It means several hours in the back of A's van. And cheese curls and warm gatorade. And new music mixes...... and long, torturous games of punchbuggy.......and impromptu skating in various rest stops along the way.
Tomorrow I am running away to the circus in the back of an old van, armed only with a pair of inline skates, a bag of cheese curls, several bottles of warm gatorade, and surrounded by people who love me. Not a bad deal if you ask me. Not a bad deal at all.