Be Forever The Kid
July 12, 2016
Merry Tuesday my frenzied little friends. Let me start this address by detailing how I climbed from the dark abyss that was yesterday’s weekly occurrence.
Like any self respecting man over the age of 20, I went out and bought myself a sword.
Yes that’s right, I am cool.
I may have even bought a lightsaber too.
Ok I definitely also got a lightsaber.
What’s that? Yeah sure, I’m great with money. In fact my bank often likes to tell me I’m outstanding.
But before you belittle me for my economically valid purchases, which they are, so stop it, I’ll be the first to admit that there is a slight possibility I am in fact a man baby. A giant, perpetually confused, 6 foot four walking flusterment of a man baby.
Because hey, none of us are perfect.
Anyway, these wise purchases, which are most certainly fiscally prudent if I haven't made that clear yet, made me see something I didn't expect to see.
Rabid fear in a bus driver’s eyes.
Well, yes. But that’s not what I mean.
It made me realize something that caused me to roll my eyes at myself, and if you know me, you know I hold no act in higher regard.
*Eyes start and keep rolling because where there should be blood there’s only sarcasm in me*
“GUYS THIS IS IT JUST LEAVE ME— WE KNEW IT WOULD END LIKE THIS”
Being a kid is like coffee-flavoured-scotch level awesome. (That’s not a thing by the way before you go scouring the interweb, just wishful thinking.)
I don’t mean not being able to go to a liquor store, because that’s just unacceptable really, but the ability to buy stuff like a sword and or a lightsaber and not worry if that means I’ll be eating KD for the next three straight months.
Kinda a win-win at the same time though, I know. I mean after three weeks I physically won’t have the energy or nutrients to go outside, but still.
I would pay good money (this here’s probably my problem) to be able to be that carefree when it comes to most things in this life. I’m no old man, don’t let my general distain for most things fool you, but sometimes worry is so second nature it’s like it’s attached to the side of my face. Like a bad face tattoo (boom! nailed that joke).
Because I think the reality is, who wouldn't give their right leg to be that free all the time?
*Flash forward to me holding my right leg*
“TAKE IT YOU SICK BASTARDS TAKE IT!”
If it sounds cliche, that’s because it is, it’s really like the basis of being cliche I think, but I don't care. Well, not enough anyway.
These words are to say I hope there never comes a day I’m too afraid to buy that sword or that lightsaber (now they’re metaphors. Boom. Multi purpose). I hope for the opposite actually. I want them all.
I mean, I suppose if the decision’s really between a lightsaber and literally three months of just KD you should, for your bone density’s sake at least, probably consider other options (or don’t, screw your bones) but I’m speaking in more general terms. Be productive, yes, work hard, yes, but why lose that sense of happiness? Why? You can have both. Honestly. All children, minus the psychopaths, have this inherent power to enjoy things without much worry. And it can stick, it really can.
Look at me!
You too could be a giant man baby.
And as for what will be, I know 80 year old’s first in line for that new flying barbecue quadcopter (they’re just getting crazier, I don't know), but at the same time I also know 80 year old’s that laugh at those in the first group.
But I want to be that first group. Always. In fact if I ever laugh at someone for buying a lightsaber, just use it on me. Assuming it’s functional by that point in time of course. Please don't beat me with a blunt instrument.
But really, I hope that even at the worst of times I’ll be able to enjoy life enough to see the fun in stuff like that. Because, let’s be honest, there is a lot of awesome out there.
Starting with this sword I’ve been swinging around the house and scaring people on the street with. So what I’ve now four less lamps and several frightened neighbours? I’ve got a flashlight on my phone and I’ve never really liked their dinner parties anyway. Problems solved.
Boom. Multi purpose again.
I suppose it also goes without saying that the special kind of imagination is another thing I’d really rather not lose. And this is not in some work-related or alternatively creative sort of way, but because I’m a man very easily bored, and without my imagination, I’m fairly confident I would either a) implode, or b) revert to stealing penguins again.
Yes, that’s right.
My past is a mysterious one.
Again, this is to say I don’t want to lose that combination of carelessness and imagination that make life so amusing. All that stuff that comes to kids so naturally. But also, I mean on a relative level of course.
If it seems my therapist's predictions start coming true and I’ve quit my job to open an emu-riding battle ring, or fund a Nickelback album, or something equally as mad, please do stop me.
So would I want to make it to 80 years without finding fun in the simple things?
Not unless I’m half cyborg by that point, which would be fun enough in itself I imagine.
So be responsible, but for god’s sake don't be boring.
Anyway, it’s always nice to yell at strangers for a little bit, so thank you. Passerby's on the street don't always take to it as kindly as you folks do. Nor do the police come to think of it.
It really is kind of interesting to think about though, my near incoherent ramblings aside. Perhaps part of the key to living right is never letting go of just being able to have a good time. Almost too simple, right? Though I think precisely that also helps with those of us in creative based jobs too, and why some can be perceived as a tad bit unhinged from time to time. Or really just big children. Writers, not exactly sane to begin with I suppose, may actually have the upper hand here for once.
Not too often you hear that.
So with that bittersweet note folks, let an unwise man baby bestow some debatably wise advice on you.
Be forever the kid.
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