Let's go on a trip. Let's go down Memory Avenue. (It's lovely this time of year.) Now, on this trip, we will visit a time in which you were seven, it's the middle of July, and your parents told you that you could get that toy for Christmas.
Since we're on Memory Avenue, you can easily remember your anxious waiting for August... September... October..... You are eagerly awaiting your new two-wheel bike. The anticipation is building through the months. Your current bike is crying as it knows it's time is ending. Your anticipation nearly kills you when finally, Christmas arrives. You tear open your presents, getting a shirt here, pants there... And all you are thinking is, "What the crap? I put up with you for a year and you give me a measly pair of socks?!"
Fast forward a few years, and look at yourself now. When it's Christmas are you giving or receiving? And what are you expecting? Remember when you were seven, and you thought clothes meant nothing. You thought that Santa was cheap, crotchety old man because he didn't get you 5 games, that he stuck you with a lame 4. Now you think either, "How am I going to pay for this?" or "I hope I get some cool clothes."
All I have to say about that is what the crap!
How on earth did I get to be the person that thought clothes were important? I distinctly remember laughing at my friend for saying he wanted clothes. (I was in 5th grade, he was in 8th.) How did I go from thinking teenagers were jerks to becoming one?
How does age manage to change everything? How did 'getting high' go from being on the swings to a mentality issue? How did we get from race issues being who was fastest? Remember when protection meant wearing a helmet? How does this happen? More importantly, who, or what, is to blame for it? Is it pheromones, or is it just immaturity?
To put a story into action here, I'll give you an example of how much I've changed.
When I was eight, I was a shy little dude. I remember not talking to people on the first day of school because that meant confrontation. When I was around my parents, I was myself. Kind of impulsive. I played with toys, and was not ashamed to tell people at school about my latest Power Ranger war (as long as I was friends with them). People with muscles were unapproachable because they freaked me out.
I'm fourteen now, and I'm no where near as shy. I had to talk to people on the first day of school because that's the only way to survive. When I'm around my parents, I'm not as 'out-there' as most of my friends tag me to be. I don't play with toys, and if I ever mentioned Power Rangers, then I'd become a social outcast outside of my friends. Now, I want to get muscle for sports and for health. But that's a different blog for a different "I can't sleep!!!!!!!" moment.
Hmmm..... You know what's fun? Blogging...
You know what's addictive? Heroine
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