I wish I was young again…

At some point in adult life, most people kinda wish they were a kid again. And they say how it was fun, to play with toys, watch cartoons and not really worry about how money is coming in. It’s about less responsibilities – not having to have grown up problems.

In fact, they might have the following dialogue in their mind or to a friend:

“Man, I’d like to be a kid, cause your grandparents would give you 5 bucks!.. and 5 bucks was a lot of money to you back then. and it was awesome! You could buy candy or a comic book. but now that you’re an adult; your grandparents still give you 5 bucks. And that’s nice, but now you feel bad, cause they’re old, and 5 bucks is their budget for a month. So now, they have to haggle the local grocery for that day old bread, so they can have bread with their butter and a touch of sugar sandwiches. I remember just sitting around playing video games all day.  Or running outside in the sprinklers just having a ball. It ain’t like that anymore. Man, I wish I was young again…”

But, others might even reach a bit further back, and reminisce about being a baby.

“Man, I’d like to be a baby, cause you would drool or even do that baby puke. and people thought ’gross‘. But at the same rate… awwwwwww. But now, if you do that, you’re mainly just gross, and people laugh at you.Or, you could be chubby and it was okay. It was a sign of health.  Or you could scream or make loud random noises, and people were okay with it, cause you’re a baby.  Ain’t nothing wrong with that. And people take care of you, hold you, and change your diaper, feed you. Babies have got it made. Man, I wish I was young again…”

But it’s a rarity for someone to say they want to be a fetus again. It could be due in part, that you would have to have the following dialogue or something similar :

“Man. I’d like to be a fetus again; it was much easier back then. You know back up in my mom’s vagina just hugging that uterus wall like a koala bear. So much simpler then. Don’t have to worry about what you’re do in life, just gotta hang on. When people just cared if you had a penis (or a vagina) and didn’t really care how big it was. Where most people loved you, and just wanted you to hold onto that wall (for 9 months) and that’s all that people wanted of you. They just cared that you existed even in that form. They didn’t expect any more of you than that.  Those were the days… I tell ya. Man, I wish I was young again…”

But I doubt people would reach that far back and have such a conversation, even if just in their minds. The whole first part about being back up in your mom’s vagina is just a bit awkward of a statement to state. But who knows… maybe its peace.  It is the least of the responsibilities.

Where are you in your mental state of life? Ever think about being a kid or whatnot again?


I’m sorry ma’am… it’s actually a Relic…*

Have you ever had an object that you may have obtained in some manner either given or self-purchased, that you almost wanted to break, just so you can get some new stuff?

But then you kinda think about the object and the memory you attach to it – the reason you bought it; the amount of times you used it or when or some odd off story about. And so you remember why you got it then and how you feel about it now. So, that makes you want to refrain from intentionally destroying it. Sentimentality, if you will.

And you have that conundrum in your mind for a moment.

But that’s what my bad habit consists of. For the Harry Potter fans, i got this one…but its’ like Lord Voldemort, and how he wants to live forever and so he puts part of his soul in various objects or whatnot.(See: horcrux) And there’s a history of that and so someone is remembered. And that is why I feel the need to hold on to these objects sometimes. It’s like associated with a memory of someone, so it’s like for that instant they live again for a moment. And it’s nice in a sense.

But I have to give these things up a bit. Cause a person cannot be smothered by their memories. If memories equal stuff, that’s a lot of stuff

It’s like in that movie, “Push” with the smellers or the feelers, who can see the memory of things by either scent or touch, as demonstrated in the scene, when they shot from the angle of the cup in the main character’s apartment. Every object has a history.

But I live in memories sometimes…

* – the title is funny to me, because that is the memory that I keep with my watch that I now wear on my wrist. I didn’t quite say that but I meant to.

The memory: I was in Vegas, and I was playing poker. And I had my watch was on, because I’ve decided a watch would make me look more sophisticated and adult-like. (I had come to this idea of sophistication because of clothing magazines or whatnot. The male model is in a suit and wearing a suave watch, with well-coifed hair, and shiny non-sneaker shoes. I figured I might as well start small, so I got a shiny metal watch.)

A girl at the poker table inquired about my watch, with a simple question of “What kind of watch is that?” I had to tell her it was called “a relic” much to my chagrin. I forget what she said afterwards, as I folded my hand and wished she’d stop talking to me cause I couldn’t concentrate on the game.

So this memory tells me that I am correct in that the notion to wear a watch to look more sophisticated and adult-like had worked. And when I think about the memories that passed that first one, I realize I did appear adult-like in that I haven’t been carded for alcohol bought at the store. haha. but also, in thinking about the poker memory I realize that the girl decided not to open the conversation with “What are you a japan-neez? or a KOR-eee-an?” but instead inquired about the shiny watch. (even though I think her next few questions/statement did ask me about my ethnicity I think). Regardless, score one for the first question in a conversation to not involve ethnic background or religious beliefs (e.g., “I wish I was buddha-ist, then my ass would be a lot skinnier… haha what do you guys like fast for like 30 days or something right? Gandhi right?”).