Seattle, Washington, United States
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Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Sidewalk Revelations

I spent a lot of time walking today. It was seventy degrees outside, and in my black t-shirt, tight-ish gray jeans, disintegrating fabric tennis shoes, and hipster leather bracelet, I felt purely, ridiculously teenage. And that's okay with me.

People used to always tell me I was born thirty years old. If that's true, I hope I've aged backwards in the last fifteen years, because, frankly, I like where I'm at. I'm writing, I'm laughing, I'm having fun, I'm drinking coffee, and I'm being a kid. And there is no shame in that. At least, not anymore. I used to think I had to insert myself into every "mature" situation I could. That, my friends, is the sign of an insecure child looking for a place in the world. Thank God I've moved past that stage.

There was one thing I never understood about my mother. While I died with joy the first time I sat at the adult table on Christmas Eve, she never moved from a proud spot at the little kid's table. Now I know why. There is nothing to be gained at the adult table that can't be gained, in a different way, at the kid's table. Kids are kids, adults are adults, and we're all just people - people with our own passions, views, loves, hates, and quirks.

This hit me while I was walking along the sidewalk and thinking about how the "grown-ups" (who are really just teenagers with mortages) must view me. With a Starbucks bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other, I probably screamed high school. I hope I screamed high school. There's no more running from where I'm at and who I am. Yes, this may seem like a profound statement of the obvious, but I'm fifteen. And I'm not going to be thirty for another lifetime.

Funny, isn't it: how you think when you're on display. Or just when you're on a sidewalk.

May your coffee be strong, your passions electric, and your laughter easy.

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  1. I love your perspective. Thanks for being real. Love, Rache

  2. Wow! Michael at 15...lovin it! Maga