Ok. It doesn’t look like I’m going to finish my post about higher education today.
So, I’m doing something lame.
I found something I wrote a few years ago.
Something I don’t particularly think is an example of good writing or particulary interesting, but I’m posting it anyways.
A friend just emailed me pictures of my high school boyfriend’s new baby.
I’m reading X-files fan fiction in my underwear.
I liked my childhood.
I didn’t particularly want to let it go.
The days when one could dress up as your favorite role model, Dana Scully, and people thought it was cute instead of creepy. The days when I wrote lists like, “Things I want to do before I’m 25” and consisted of pragmatic goals like “Have completed ten novels”, “Have starred in ten movies” and “Have two ex-husbands”. The days where I had no concept about the unfairness in the world, the bills I’d have to pay, the emotional breakdown that would actually come at 25 instead of stardom and divorce settlements.
I believe my childhood died in fragments, not in one final, grand exit.
Like a series of heart attacks.
The first heart attack came in 8th grade. I was wearing an over-sized womens’ business suit. I wanted to look like an FBI agent. Dana Scully wore cool business suits. I didn’t realize until I was older that she indeed did not wear cool business suits. A male classmate asked me if I was a dyke. I had no idea what that word meant. I envisioned a riverbed and could not see the correlation. A friend later explained to me what it meant. I was crushed. When you’re 14 and don’t know any better, those sort of things hurt. After that day, I retired my over-sized pant suits to the closet and settled for more traditional teenage garb like a jean skirt and t-shirt.
The second heart attack came when my childhood dog passed away. For some reason, I was dumb-founded when she actually died. I was convinced she would live forever. I actually thought that I could will her to be immortal even though I was 17 years old and should have known better. I would sit with her and have a talk. I’d say, “Look, Sam. You’re not dying ok?” I’d look her intensely in the eyes. The more intensely I’d look, the more I knew it would work. I’d sit next to her on the couch, staring, sometimes crying, sometimes screaming, demanding her to live forever. Sam would look at me sideways, then slowly lean away.
The third attack happened when I was twenty. Some things are better left unsaid.
The fourth heart attack came when I took the Jim Henson Studios tour and saw five Kermits hanging on hooks on the wall.
So, while looking at this picture of a child of somebody at one time knew so well, somebody at one point I couldn’t imagine life without, someone I stopped loving years ago, someone I have no idea who they are anymore nor care to, I debate whether or not I should put some clothes on, shut down the computer, and just finally take the pant-suit to Goodwill.
That's not about higher education?
I loved this post!! Beautifully written, even if it was written in the past. 🙂
At least you didn't want to be Kelly Taylor from 90210.
Or Lisa Loeb.
I'm stopping there.
I actually really liked this piece! Don't sell yourself short. It was well-written and nicely rounded.
And relatable. Adulthood is for wimps.
I still read X Files fanfiction, I hope you do too! It's nothing to be ashamed of, Mulder is freaking hot!
When I was younger I wanted to be Marc Bolan from T.Rex and considering I'm a girl the other kids didn't take too kindly to it. I used to have huge curly hair and glitter eye make-up and I was always wearing flares. What a weirdo.
Then when I was in my early teens I was obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and yes I took a wooden stake to school.
You are not alone Lauren. I loved this post.
@IT- good point, IT…
@Thomas- Awww….thank you!!!
@Laurie- None of those girls are bad! At least they were bubbly. Looking back now, Dana Scully was kind of a cold bitch.
@Meghan- Thanks sweets! Let's stay kids forever!
@Emily- Ha! Who DOESN'T want to look like Marc Bolan!? I sure hope I meet you one day!
I am glad you posted this …
Childhood not dreams… dreams are eternal while childhood is bound by the dimensions of time and space. No matter how we slice it, childhood only last so long.
I really like you, Hipster. You aren't like the rest of the people, here, in the trailer park.
What are you talking about, this is a really good cool, sincere post. And of course I laughed out loud at my work desk AGAIN (I thought we talked about this…well I talked to you about this, and how I can't read your blog at work because it just points out to everyone that I'm not really working when they hear me giggle at my desk). So this time, the giggle-factor came by way of the Dana Scully/Dyke comment. I'm sorry—but the oversized pantsuit and you not realizing she didn't really wear "cool pantsuits", oh man…too much to contain my laughter.
Ok have a good weekend!
@Big Mark- Wow. Thank you for that. That really means a lot. Made me smile.
@Minky- You have a good weekend too, babe!
Kind of speechless after reading this, but wanted to thank you for sharing it. There's a lot I want to say about it, but I think it may take some time to absorb. I've been having some moments like these recently though, and you've inspired me to try and write them out. Thanks girl!
Thanks for this post. It made me think back on some of my own "heart attacks," which made me both sad and happy.
I think it is human nature to believe we can WILL those we love to stay alive. I did that with both my brother and my husband.
A good heart attack? When I realized that I could actually write poetry!
I hate growing up. I hate having to face all the real-life stuff that appears from nowhere. Responsibility? PAH!
I dare not even make a list of my heart-attacks. I might end up crying all of the fluid out of my body.
Really great post.