Thursday, 12 February 2015

Because Is An Answer

I absolutely love fart noises  I giggle on the inside every time I see a penis. I think shut up is still the best come back. I splash in puddles. I’m pissed off that they remade The Karate Kid. I believe that Zelda changed my life. Sneakers go with everything. Period. It is still not understood why I always lose my mittens. It is still not understood why I still wear mittens. I imitate people. I always need to know if we’re there yet. I suggest swinging on swings for dates. I purchase happy meals just for the toys. I lip sync. My hands are constantly in my mouth. I love a good moon on the highway. I crumple my money. I throw things when I have tantrums. I still have tantrums. I walk into inanimate objects. I still think about being a power ranger. It’s not ok that I can’t sample the candy isle. W.W.H.M.D? (What Would Hannah Montana Do?) I still go “pee pee.” My make up bag is a pencil case. Fuck clowns! I hate wearing socks/clothes. Mr. Dress Up is the tits. Seat me at the kids table. Puppets make everything better. I still want my mom to watch me when I do cool shit. Math = Stupid. Period. I can’t sit still. I can’t stand still. I enjoy a good fruit roll up...on my finger. I heart J.T.T. forever. My shoe laces are currently untied. I still believe in gnomes. I interrupt. It’s imperative to yell “shot gun.” I will punch your lights out, if you speak ill of Nonna. Rocky is still my hero. I wish capes were as common as jeans. Im scared of the dark. I need to meet the muppets and I am currently wishing I was at my buddies house cause I know she has pop tarts.

And they think I need to grow up? 
This is me grown up. 
Maybe they need to grow down.

You know how much stuff I had to give up to grow up? A lot...and it sucked. But like many things I’ve done, I didn’t think. I realized, down sizing my inner child made me a very unhappy person. Pretending I cared about pop culture and current events, just so I could hold a conversation with the spokes people for Boring, wasn’t really working for me. I had to even give up my love for doodling because adult calendar's went digital. I can’t doodle little stars around the concert I’ve been stoked for on a digital calendar. I said that to someone one time and they responded with:

“Just use an emoticon.”

... Fuck you “use an emoticon!” It’s not the same!

There was no way I could keep that “I’m a respectable adult” hat on much longer. I couldn’t breath with it on and it made me sweaty.  

I was miserable.
Like, Spice Girls break up miserable. 
That was blue balls for teenage girls everywhere. 
We thought we had something special. 

I’ll tell you “what I want". 

For you to reverse time, and NOT break my fucking thirteen year old heart in 1998.

Silencing my inner child began to snow ball into other problems. Bigger problems. But the root of the evil, was that I stopped enjoying things/doing the things I enjoyed. (Say that three times fast.)

I’m an extremest. (I say 'extremest' you say bi-polar...tomato potato)I say it loud and somewhat proud. There is no grey. There’s black. There’s white.


I’m fucking happy. I’m what Happy would be portrayed as, if there was a movie being made about Happy's life. An over acted, exaggeration of Happy. 


(I wan’t to say mad...but my grade seven teacher told me that “only animals get mad”. It stuck.) If I’m upset, then I would suggest excusing yourself from my presence, despite the time of day and or year. If it’s early, go grab brunch somewhere. If it’s late, might I suggest a moonlit walk? 
Hot outside, bring water. Cold, deal with it. 

It’s like that scene in Amityville, where the house is just getting right down to the nitty gritty, no sugar coating whatsoever. "GET OUT!"  There is no grey.

I chose "adult".
I didn’t want to be left behind again. When we were all hitting our early twenties, I was still trying to graduate high school while everyone else was getting jobs and cars and other shiny distracting things. People were real dick’s about it too. They would take jabs at where I was in my life. Sometime’s the jabs were, where I was in my life vs. where they were in theirs. The type of people that need to push other people down so they can stand up. The weak in strength’s clothing. We’ve all met those. 

I, as a child, was a just because type of little person. I grew to be a just because” teenager. Then college rolled around, and just because” found an outlet, but as soon as the outlet was over and the real world introduced itself, I was forced to make a decision. One of those fork’s in the road. All signs were pointing to GROW UP, but as an extremest, it was one or the other, kid or grown up. No in betweensy’s. I was doing ok in my life, on track to something, and dipping my toes into adulthood. I eventually stopped dipping my toes and ended up just diving right in. 


That was my first mistake. 
( regards to this.) I was exhausting myself and killing myself at the same time. Killing myself in a slaughtering of who I was sense. Pieces of me were breaking off, making it extremely difficult to have human interactions. I was cracking. I knew how kid me would deal with the situation. But grown up me was so fucking awkward. It was like when you get pulled up on stage at those tropical resorts. The entertainers pretty much toss you up there and make you do all kinds of weird shit, and you totally have to do it because everyone is watching and the lights are shining on you. You do it. It’s very hard to hide that you don’t want to be up there and that you don’t know what your doing. But you smile and do it anyways. When it came to growing up, it was obvious that I didn’t want to be up there and that I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m not saying that I didn’t want to grow up. I did. I was spectacular at being a kid so there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t rock at being an adult. I just didn’t know how to do it. I took a look around and tried to mimic what other people were doing but that didn’t work either! 

Childhood and Adulthood were both being equally stubborn. Neither of them wanted to see or even talk to the other. And there I was. Lost. Texting both of them saying 

“can’t we just meet in the middle?”

 Life dealt me some cards where I had to fall off the face of the earth for awhile. So not being around people allowed me to remember the beauty in solitude. I forgot that  being alone meant that no one was around. I could have deeper more meaningful conversations with myself with no interruptions. Zero influences. I had no other choice. Who else was I going to talk to? Sort it out with yourself me, or ride this ferris wheel forever.

The versions of myself that I had created for the public, were now allowed to be on hiatus. (Thank God, cause weirdo awkward adult me was that girl you had to invite to your party cause your mom said so.) I could hear myself clearer because I could now speak in my original dialect.

I stopped.
I listened. 
I heard myself loud and clear. 
I was not happy. 
I was not having fun and a me needs fun or it will die. 
It can’t be so bad to have one adult  who sucks at “adult”. 
Come on! And I’m sure as sin that I’m not the only one.  
It was time to put everybody else in my blind spot. 

Not how I roll son indeed. I wasn’t born a follower and I wasn’t born a leader. I was born. Whatever came after that was cool with me, as long as I got to be myself and live accordingly. I didn’t give a shit if I was followed or lead. I just needed a metaphorical field to run around all times.  

It was becoming evident that being a fake representation of myself was a complete disaster. I even gave myself dirty looks on a daily basis. Hate’s a strong word, so I’ve been told on numerous occasions. I am fully aware of that, when I say, I absolutely hated who I was. 

The votes were in. Bring back the kid! Force Childhood and Adulthood to have it out in a basement somewhere, until they beat the realization into each other that they are...(Spoiler Alert) the same person, a la Fight Club. Figure it out and don’t come upstairs till you do! slams door

Little me was a lot of fun. Ask anyone. If you were rolling with little me, you could bet your bottom dollar, that you were going to have a blast. I definitely required adult super vision, as most my idea’s were hazardous, but I was a blast none the less. Little me had fun everywhere she went. I remember when I would go to my grandmothers house, I wouldn’t really have any toys to play with there. It didn’t matter. I would sit at her sewing table, playing with spools of thread as if they were Barbie dolls. Spools of thread went to prom. Spools of thread got married. Spools of thread fought to the death with opposing spools of thread.

We didn’t have much, but we did, if you thought like little me. You could lock me in a room, come get me in a couple of hours, and I’d probably ask for five more minutes. When little me and little big Sister were bad, we’d be sent to random rooms for time outs. The door would be shut and we would have to spend the allotted time, thinking about what we did. Once, when we were visiting my aunt, I crossed a line and was sent to her washroom and told to stay in there, until my mother felt I had spent enough time reflecting on my actions. Pfft! Reflect on my actions? Yea right. After asking repeatedly if I could “come out now”, and constantly being refused, little me figured she’d make the best of the situation. What did she do? She made a game out of peeling the already sort of peeled wallpaper off the walls. 

Being a huge italian family, it was easy for one to get distracted and forget that they had sent me for a time out. I guess after awhile of not hearing me and things seaming a little too quiet, my family had finally realized that they had forgotten about me in the washroom. Which was totally cool with little me, because it gave her enough time to win the peel the wallpaper off the walls game. 

My Aunt + Peel The Wallpaper Off The Walls Game = Not Happy 

I guess that’s the only time where, teaching your kids, to “make the best with what you’ve got” blows up in your face.


It sucks for kids, that they are typecast as such until they grow up. I think as children we already have things figured out. We never really needed to become adults to master the concept of how to live life successfully. We had it down to an art as kids. Well, I did anyway. It irritates me when I hear or see adults treat them with that whole “what do kid’s know?” type of attitude. 
What do kid’s know? 

Here’s what they know: 
  • “I like you/it”
  • “I don’t like you/it”
  • I don’t “need” if I imagine (e.g. the spatula that is also a sword)
  • Because is an answer
  • Shit’s not that big of a deal and if it is... recess is around the corner. 
Those are some serious life lessons for someone so small to already know. 

Life Was So Much Simpler As A Child was a sad song that was stuck in my head for many years. No matter how hard I tried to sing a different tune, I kept ending up playing the same old track. The fucked up thing was, my childhood was pretty traumatic, but even though that was the case, I can’t picture any other time where I was more at ease. 

If I was going to confront Adulthood on not being happy, I had to get the facts straight on why I couldn’t survive in the current living conditions. I had already spent so many years living in shit storms and swimming through oceans of nonsense, you’d think I was the fucking Poseidon of hardships. But somehow, Childhood was easier. It made sense to me. Life was simple and effective. Why was I good at Kid and awful at Adult? What did little me have, that present me did not? There was only one way to pinpoint the problem. I had to revive an old habit. Doodling. 

Anyone that says:

“people who talk to themselves are nuts”

are truly afraid of what they might hear if they listen. It’s not a fun experience to have to go back to the drawing board with yourself. The hardest part for me is admitting that I have to go back, ultimately because I was wrong. Pride. 

I’m all I had. I was my own Hail Mary pass. No one was going to fix me. I’m sure you can imagine how scary it is, to be your last shot, when you’re the reason you only have one left to begin with. With that being said, who else was I supposed to turn to, besides myself? I looked down at the chart/conversation in front of me and burst out laughing. I knew that little weirdo kid was onto something! There’s no way someone could have had that much fun while dealing with the dreadful x y z, if she hadn’t had a method to her madness. A subconscious method, but a method all the same. The most sense I ever made was when I was a ridiculous child, and ridding myself of her/sense, made none.

I will forever wear costumes on Halloween  I never want to forget the words to Under The Sea. I’m not going to stop playing with the melted candle wax. I’m probably never going to learn I can’t microwave everything. Finding my christmas presents will only get better with age. I’m always going to lose my keys. I’m always going to wander off. Knapsack trumps purse. Fuck instruction manuals. I never did it even if I did. I will always squirm. Fuck Google, prove it! My hair will forever be in my face. Inappropriate? If you’re not dancing, you’re in my way. I leave crumbs. I break stuff. I spill stuff. Sing-a-longs save lives. This is my indoor voice. I will forever play air drums. Once you prove you're right, I won’t care by then. Don’t make me choose between napping and sex. I will forever be the one man mosh pit. Who cares if it doesn’t match? No jewelry gentlemen, I will lose it. Don’t lend me stuff, I will lose it. Don’t tell me the new Batman is the best Batman, I will lose it. Board games over apps. I don’t care if it’s not possible, that’s why I said “imagine if”! I change my mind. I change outfits. My arm will always be out the window on the highway. I suck at directions. I love getting lost. I did eat the last whatever. No, you shut up. I will forever kiss and tell. I will always be laughing. I will never not be silly. Fuck digital calendars. I will always do things "just because". 

And because of that, I still smile just like little me.

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