maturity – An Armchair Perfectionist

I am thinking of a delicate piece of glass – intrinsic and complex in its design; absolutely beautiful with the rainbow of colours glowing under the sliver of sunlight. I would be so scared to get close and touch it initially. I would want to admire it from a distance. Perhaps… I can reach a point where the glass is so inviting that I muster the courage to take a closer look and even begin holding it.

From trembling fears to a confident grasp, I become more comfortable in picking it up and carrying it with me. I might even try to guard it from prying fingers and jealous eyes before I calm down and let it be free, clean and safe in its own zone.

I don’t want to risk becoming too callous with it though. While I may have overcome my initial apprehension of handling it, I don’t want to get carried away and juggle it with other delicate items on the mantelpiece… Lest it crash and break into a thousand glittering pieces just because I was too careless and neglected to pay close attention. I want to preserve and respect its unique beauty and worth. That way, the glass lasts forever with me without losing its sheen and significance.

And then I look at what I have scribbled above and replace the “glass” with “relationships”… it kind of tells me the same thing about how I should handle them. If only I did well to remember this … the world will be a great place to live!

Written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday and Just Jo January hosted by Linda. Check out her blog for a revolving round of fun and insights and happiness.

Humanity has been blessed with a poop-load of emotions and progressive attitudes. But, the deal of growth and development gets too pressing when all I want to do is get back to my coloring books.

Is that too much to ask for?

I think not.

Really! What kind of wiring inside our heads brings on smirks and wisecracks when we see a “grown up” indulging in pure, unadulterated child-like fun. The looks I get when I lick Nutella straight from the jar… DUH! There are thieves and murderers out there, yet I get booked for criminal conduct – well, almost! I was coloring the other day and at least six people asked after my age, my mental stability and my lack of life (*injured look*). Haha! They think they are being so funny, I am drowning in hysterics.

Not.

Now, if only I could smash their faces into a bowl of rotten condensed milk and eggs, it would tie up everything in a nice little bow. Mature, I know …

I don’t want to be a responsible adult all the time. It is so… vanilla! I want to have stupid fun which doesn’t include gyrating to crappy music and being all over someone. I want to build a nice nest of pillows and blankets, and cuddle with my best friend. I want to have a showdown with my extremely understanding boyfriend about who gets the last piece of cake. I want to serenade down the streets on a purple bicycle with tassels (Okay, I’ll rethink the tassels!). Chuck serious! I spend exactly nine hours, five times a week being serious and acting like I am the answer to world peace. Clearly, I deserve break!

But, this brings forth another issue. The definition of break! The fact that I don’t indulge in drinks (unless it is Bailey’s! *slurp*) automatically brings a round of “You still get asked for ID, no?” or “LOL, so you still have child-lock in the car?” Same when I balk at clubbing and up-scale partying. Excuse me. Why am I labelled as a “kid” just because I don’t always like dressing all sheeny and get clicked with hordes of cocktails? At times, I really just want an early morning hike instead of a late night party. And if being a kid is what it means, then I will be the best kid you have ever seen! Ha! Take that…

‘Younging’ down needs to be a trend. Presto! To refer someone as a kid should not be a form of humiliation. I mean what sadistic pleasure people get when they say, “Over there! The kid’s section – those clothes might fit you.” And honestly, kids themselves need to understand the beauty of being young and child-like. How many do we see playing on the streets nowadays? And what the hell are ‘boy issues’ at the age of six?? I feel like trashing that iPad the eight year old is busy with… but chuck it! I will contribute to the society instead. Tie up my sneakers and race with the dog in the lane to set an example for those munchkins. Very altruistic of me, no? A saint among sinners! Excuse me while I prepare my Nobel Acceptance Speech.