A Tribute to Schumacher
"Oh I wish I were an Oscar Myer wiener
That is what I'd truly like to be
For if I were an Oscar Myer wiener
Everyone would be in love with me!"
Ain't that the truth.
I think I might actually be a hopeless romantic trapped in a Dunja body. (I watched another Wedding show type-thingy. I should really stop doing that...)
Tick tock tick...
I'm turning 20 in 28 days. It's got me thinking about all sorts of stuff I still haven't done. It's like life is a giant countdown - you have 60 seconds - and it seems like the amount of stuff that needs doing in that 60 seconds is only doable by a James Bond type character. When I set off on the mission, I knew I had to fight off all sorts of bad guys, put my skis on, get down the hill and into the pond, scuba down to the treasure chest, cut the right wire, fight off the dogs, rescue the guy, and jump off a cliff, parachuting safely into my awaiting rescue vehicle... but I haven't even deciphered who the bad guys are yet - and I've already lost 10 seconds looking around in bewilderment.
It's around this time every year that I get the heeby jeebies, but it's especially pronounced this year because it's as if though I'm supposed to be closing a chapter in 28 days - and it's been the best. I don't wanna! I'd re-read it if I could.
I remember actually lying awake the night before my thirteenth birthday having the same sort of clausterphobic feeling. At the time, thirteen seemed like a big deal - I wasn't going to be a kid anymore. Well, thirteen came and went and I realized that you are what you think you are - and I managed to stay a kid (both to the delight and dismay of many who know me) a lot longer than I thought it was possible at age 12, 364 days and 23 hours. So I know that's probably exactly what will happen here - that's the good part - this isn't the first time this has happened, so I kinda know what to expect.
At the same time, I feel old.
I remember being 17 and at a party with 20-year-olds, feeling strangely out of place. I looked at them like creatures from another planet. They seemed so sophisticated and mature. All of their jokes were better than ours, and the drinking they were doing was legal, and the 20-year-old guys were just so much cooler than the guys my age... I didn't talk much - if nothing else sets off the alarm bells in your head, that should.
But am I really that different from my 17-year-old self now, what seems like lifetimes later?
Well, lets think back to Dunja at 17.
When I turned 17, I had just finished the 11th grade. I'd had math with Ms. Tzeng that year and had only recently stopped talking to Keira. I played Queen Something-Or-Other at the Renaissance Fair - which just happened to be on my birthday - and I remember being on the bus on the way home with Zeebs and Paul. They wanted us all to go out to Demetre's and get some ice cream and celebrate, but I was lugging a giant costume, and not in a very good mood.
My sister was still a kid. She didn't have boobs, she didn't have attitude, and she definitely didn't have a boyfriend. My cousin still climbed trees. The family from Brampton came down that weekend and I had a low-key party with them - the cake was chocolate, I believe. That summer, I played a lot of beach volleyball in Serbia, enjoyed some walks in the park, some ice cream, and some rocking parties. My cousin and I had a knock down drag out fight that resulted in a nosebleed. I walked the 3 km home in the 37 degree weather. Grade 12 was a blur. Hours spent cramming for calculus, countless others in the hallway 'studying' for Discreet math, the downstairs S-hall crew that kept me laughing (and somewhat sane), hours long after everyone else was gone spent in the yearbook office, the Bell Walk for Kids, not talking to P, strained relations with Z, and PROM the icing on the cake that I went to with some random guy I barely knew and spent not talking to the most important people of my highschool life. Weird. Also, I believe a movie-character was crowned prom king. But I can't even remember. That night was so shit.
Then I turned 18.
So was I really that different at 17 then I am now, at almost 20?
Well... no.
I had a major crush on a total asshole guy that lasted several months and was never meant to be. I spread myself thin and was stubborn in my ways. I placed too much emphasis on relationships that didn't matter and allowed other, more important ones, to slip and slide their way into and out of existance. I didn't really try in school. I was determined to have a good time, but didn't really know how... that's all as true today as it ever was. (Except that now I have crushes on more than one asshole guy at a time because there are simply more of them proportionately - and as far as friendships go, I think I'm a bit more apt at deciphering which ones I really should focus on - which is something, I suppose, in the way of progress.)
So should I really be nervous about my upcoming birthday? Well, not if I want things to stay the same. The laws of inertia state that a body in motion stays in motion, so I can safely predict a very similar disposition and attitude toward life and way of handling things at age 23. The only trouble is that I think my life is supposed to be moving - moving forward. That I'm supposed to be learning and evolving and changing - for the better. But it isn't really moving forward (life, that is) - and, well, a body at rest tends to stay at rest.
That is what I'd truly like to be
For if I were an Oscar Myer wiener
Everyone would be in love with me!"
Ain't that the truth.
I think I might actually be a hopeless romantic trapped in a Dunja body. (I watched another Wedding show type-thingy. I should really stop doing that...)
Tick tock tick...
I'm turning 20 in 28 days. It's got me thinking about all sorts of stuff I still haven't done. It's like life is a giant countdown - you have 60 seconds - and it seems like the amount of stuff that needs doing in that 60 seconds is only doable by a James Bond type character. When I set off on the mission, I knew I had to fight off all sorts of bad guys, put my skis on, get down the hill and into the pond, scuba down to the treasure chest, cut the right wire, fight off the dogs, rescue the guy, and jump off a cliff, parachuting safely into my awaiting rescue vehicle... but I haven't even deciphered who the bad guys are yet - and I've already lost 10 seconds looking around in bewilderment.
It's around this time every year that I get the heeby jeebies, but it's especially pronounced this year because it's as if though I'm supposed to be closing a chapter in 28 days - and it's been the best. I don't wanna! I'd re-read it if I could.
I remember actually lying awake the night before my thirteenth birthday having the same sort of clausterphobic feeling. At the time, thirteen seemed like a big deal - I wasn't going to be a kid anymore. Well, thirteen came and went and I realized that you are what you think you are - and I managed to stay a kid (both to the delight and dismay of many who know me) a lot longer than I thought it was possible at age 12, 364 days and 23 hours. So I know that's probably exactly what will happen here - that's the good part - this isn't the first time this has happened, so I kinda know what to expect.
At the same time, I feel old.
I remember being 17 and at a party with 20-year-olds, feeling strangely out of place. I looked at them like creatures from another planet. They seemed so sophisticated and mature. All of their jokes were better than ours, and the drinking they were doing was legal, and the 20-year-old guys were just so much cooler than the guys my age... I didn't talk much - if nothing else sets off the alarm bells in your head, that should.
But am I really that different from my 17-year-old self now, what seems like lifetimes later?
Well, lets think back to Dunja at 17.
When I turned 17, I had just finished the 11th grade. I'd had math with Ms. Tzeng that year and had only recently stopped talking to Keira. I played Queen Something-Or-Other at the Renaissance Fair - which just happened to be on my birthday - and I remember being on the bus on the way home with Zeebs and Paul. They wanted us all to go out to Demetre's and get some ice cream and celebrate, but I was lugging a giant costume, and not in a very good mood.
My sister was still a kid. She didn't have boobs, she didn't have attitude, and she definitely didn't have a boyfriend. My cousin still climbed trees. The family from Brampton came down that weekend and I had a low-key party with them - the cake was chocolate, I believe. That summer, I played a lot of beach volleyball in Serbia, enjoyed some walks in the park, some ice cream, and some rocking parties. My cousin and I had a knock down drag out fight that resulted in a nosebleed. I walked the 3 km home in the 37 degree weather. Grade 12 was a blur. Hours spent cramming for calculus, countless others in the hallway 'studying' for Discreet math, the downstairs S-hall crew that kept me laughing (and somewhat sane), hours long after everyone else was gone spent in the yearbook office, the Bell Walk for Kids, not talking to P, strained relations with Z, and PROM the icing on the cake that I went to with some random guy I barely knew and spent not talking to the most important people of my highschool life. Weird. Also, I believe a movie-character was crowned prom king. But I can't even remember. That night was so shit.
Then I turned 18.
So was I really that different at 17 then I am now, at almost 20?
Well... no.
I had a major crush on a total asshole guy that lasted several months and was never meant to be. I spread myself thin and was stubborn in my ways. I placed too much emphasis on relationships that didn't matter and allowed other, more important ones, to slip and slide their way into and out of existance. I didn't really try in school. I was determined to have a good time, but didn't really know how... that's all as true today as it ever was. (Except that now I have crushes on more than one asshole guy at a time because there are simply more of them proportionately - and as far as friendships go, I think I'm a bit more apt at deciphering which ones I really should focus on - which is something, I suppose, in the way of progress.)
So should I really be nervous about my upcoming birthday? Well, not if I want things to stay the same. The laws of inertia state that a body in motion stays in motion, so I can safely predict a very similar disposition and attitude toward life and way of handling things at age 23. The only trouble is that I think my life is supposed to be moving - moving forward. That I'm supposed to be learning and evolving and changing - for the better. But it isn't really moving forward (life, that is) - and, well, a body at rest tends to stay at rest.
posted by captain obvious at 12:30 a.m.
1 Comments:
I felt like that around my 20th birthday, it's a landmark since it's the end of your teen years (and possibly your rebellious ways). But there'll always be something you want to accomplish, goals in life that you haven't achieved. If I were you, I'd pick one goal so that you can 'cross it off your list'. 20 comes and goes, just make sure when looking back on your past, that you also look forward to the better things ahead.
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