Tuesday, February 1, 2011

And the winds that blow remind me of what has been, and what can never be

My muse tonight, the rain, is pushing me to write something. I don't know what that something is yet, but I guess we'll find out together.

Today...was a day of reflections. But not the passive, ponderous type. I was out doing and discovering things. I rolled out of bed feeling older. Why this doesn't happen on my birthdays, I don't know. Regardless...I finally felt like a senior. And I came across something from my freshman year, what it was is a different story entirely. I remember feeling so old when I received it. It was like "oh, now I'm mature". I couldn't have been more wrong!

That got me to thinking, what does it mean to grow up? Most people use the 'social norms' to gauge their maturity and experience, things like turning 18 or 21, etc..Others use actual experiences that everyone is supposed to have. Such as your first kiss, first love, or first broken bone.

Maturity and 'growing up' to me means so many different things. Whether I'll ever be mature, well I doubt that. But I know I'm growing up because I have a much more developed sense of myself. I know what I like and dislike, my strengths and weaknesses, etc.. When I think of growing up, I think of a song by Taylor Berrett called "Grow Down".

Life was easier when we were three feet tall
And when we made mistakes we didn't have so far to fall
Problems are so far away when you're so close to the ground
Why can't we all just grow down?

There is another line that goes something like "when planning for the future meant saturdays, calling up a friend to come out and play. and when the time comes begging mama to let them stay". There is so much truth in that. I really miss when planning for the future meant 'saturday'. Not 'the rest of my life'.

Back to the point...kind of. After I found that freshman memory, I was tempted to ask this person if they didn't feel that too. I feel the same way I did back then, age wise, but I have many more experiences under my belt and realize mistakes I made. Does that make me more mature? *sigh* I really don't know.

As I am in the home stretch of senior year, I'm starting to think about these things. I want so badly to leave, but can't imagine actually doing it. So many of these people that I see everyday now will never reenter my life. The hallways are filled with bodies that will soon become forgotten in my mind.

Plus, this is the longest I've ever stayed anywhere. Then why doesn't it feel like home?

You can thank the rain for this lovely and unrelated conglomeration of thoughts.

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