"Wow, even adults have iPods!" Christine said when I walked into creative writing class. Shit. 80% of the time I forget I'm old enough to be their mom. They usually treat me like I'm just another kid... but when she said that... I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
Now I'm an adult. I guess that's not so bad... I try to live like an adult, but that's a struggle. I'm normally 30-something going on 13. And I like it that way. I feel it gives me whimsy. Then the next minute I'm a curmudgeon pissed off that the freakin' kids are takin' up my time with being late and not being prepared for class. BAH. So which is it? Am I like that guy on the advert where he's struggling with his inner child? I would like to live in harmony with my inner teenager/space alien but hey we can't have it all can we?
Now I'm pretty certain that I'm bipolar for having that struggle at all.
So today I'm confronted with my own adulthood and my own wish I could be frivolous and go join the peace corps or work for an environmental lobby or even just not need anything but a pair of jeans, couple pairs of underwear and two tee-shirts. But no... I'm a horribly materialistic comfort ho that can't stand to be without a hot shower or a good cup of coffee. I don't want to need anything or anyone but I'm horribly needy. Or would that be "wanty"? Is that a word?
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