23 November, 2013

those horses with one horn on their foreheads are really pretty

i have just realised that dylan moran was right about adulthood:

"that’s why adults are confused a lot of the time. adults are terribly confused, messed up people. that’s because they forget, really, that they don’t have to pretend all the time. really, the fact is that you’re not an adult at all - you’re just a tall child holding a beer, having conversations you don’t understand…"

there is no such thing. we are all just tall children holding drinks and conversations that befuddle us, trying to appear unconcerned and calm, feeling on the inside like we're all about to be exposed for the bubble gum loving, my little pony collecting, short pant wearing frauds. what is this thing, adulthood? we don't even have a proper entrance into the ring in our society! no way to know you're "in". no bat mitzvah for me, just, you know, the embarrassment of my body going all sorts of weird and the boys suddenly shooting up in importance. and then having to pay for your own stuff, no more mom and dad footing the bill...

i had a conversation recently with a ridiculously intelligent friend who is a university professor and who had just gotten her tenure (at a time of serious university cut-backs, especially in areas deemed unimportant, i.e. anything that's not engineering or computers or science), and she admitted to feeling like a fraud. what the hell?

so yeah, adulthood: like the unicorn, it is a mythological beast about whose existence i have some serious doubts. after all, if you can't act grown up (on the inside) past 40, when is it likely to happen? never! that's when!

5 comments:

Zhoen said...

Funny, I've never felt this way. Maybe because I never felt like a kid when I was one. Adulthood simply meant being big, driving, and handling money.


Although I also suspect it's a middle class thing.

polish chick said...

i am an adult in all the "right" ways. i'm responsible, i pay my bills, i own real estate. and for the most part i feel fairly grown-up. it's when the same things that hurt me when i was a kid continue to hurt me now that i get doubts.

Tom said...

How fascinating. It's only our physical bodies that get older and eventually become unfit for purpose. There is that inside us which does not age and never will do so. The sense of I-ness may feel the need to grow up (why not grow down? That's much more fun) and acquire some sense of maturity and gravitas. But it's a lost cause. We tend to forget that becoming responsible is not the same as becoming adult.

Zhoen said...

Ah, we are down to definitions. To me, being adult was all about being responsible for myself, and whatever I'd taken on. That's it, as far as my definition ever went. Never thought I'd stop wanting to play, or stop feeling like being selfish, or really stop feeling anything I felt as a child.

If anything, being grown up would mean I could play without being told not to. One of the first things I did when I bought my first sofa, was to stand on it. Wearing my shoes.

Wasn't quite as much fun, because I was big and knew if I jumped I might break it and couldn't afford to replace it. But it was also terribly satisfying, having the choice, understanding instead of having to follow an imposed rule.

polish chick said...

all i know is that when i was 19 my parents moved across the country (and in the case of canada, this is not insignificant) and i was left on my own, finally a fully official adult.

one of my first purchases at that time was a tin of mickey mouse bandaids - this was the sort of silly extravagance that my parents would not waste money on (and rightly so, from my wise and old vantage point) so by buying something ridiculous and childish, i was asserting my independence and proclaiming my adulthood. i giggled about it then, and i see the humour in it even now.

i still have that tin, all these years later, but it's now filled with regular unadorned bandaids.