Poop Is Brown

I don’t understand people’s wistfulness for the bygone days of high school. I was there. I did it. And it sucked. Think about it, these are the same people who complain that their co-workers behave like they’re a bunch of teenagers. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard things like, “What the hell is wrong with the Purchasing department? It’s like high school in there. They really need to grow up”. Yet they want back the cliquishness, the judgmental “cool kids”, the fashion police, the adult demands with the restrictions of youth, and the general self-centered oblivion that comes with being 17. How many reading this were at home on prom night? Or didn’t make varsity? Or were alone at the lunch table? Thankfully I had some friends, enjoyed some good times, and wasn’t coming to school in a trench coat with pencil scribbled plans for revenge. Honestly though, if I had my pick, there are only two ages to be; 4 or 22. That’s it. At 4, you are old enough to understand enough of the world to interact with it, but not yet jaded by its inadequacies, its cruelty, and its contempt for the individual. Everything is a new experience. Dandelions are awesome. Picking your nose is a reasonable practice. When you fall down & skin your knees you get kisses to make it all better. Nap time is a prerequisite of each day. Staring at clouds is a perfectly acceptable way to while away an afternoon. You have no worries about school, schedules, or what you are supposed to do. And your parents are the smartest most amazing people in the world. Skipping ahead, you now turn 22. You are at the pinnacle of your physical health. You’ve been driving long enough to have the hang of it. And chances are, you have a job that allows you the financial stability to actually go places and do things. You are free to drink and smoke and play poker and vote (hopefully not in that order). You are just beginning your adult life and are open to the possibilities that are YOU. You can be anything. Most of us are not married, have no children, and are responsible only for designing our future. And we do this with the experiences, the education, and the relationships that got us that far. Don’t get me wrong, I think the years in between 4 and 22 are very important. But I sure as shit wouldn’t want to do them again. Give me mud-pies and lollypops or give me a hot body with a 23” waist and the freedom to party until 5 am. As I continue on, I’m sure I’ll look back & say that 46 is the prime of life or that being an octogenarian is where it’s at. But for now, damn it, I want a nap!