Take Me To Neverland

I'm just as guilty as the next person when it comes to rushing through my years. We all know that feeling. Wanting to quickly grow up always wishing you were older. I know, myself, I had this idea in my mind that the older you were the better you were. I constantly wished I was another year older, I my final few years imagining my life in high school and I can honestly say that it definitely did not amount to what I had thought. If I had taken more time to appreciate my life as I was living it I probably wouldn't be so upset with myself now for rushing through everything that could have made a great memory. This may explain my ongoing obsession with everything Disney and playing in snow, or really anything remotely childlike. I'm not ready to grow up and I may never be a hundred percent ready. In a way I can see why I love Peter Pan as much as I do. I love the youthfulness that he represents and I always imagine myself being dragged away to Neverland where it is acceptable to be childlike, after all adults aren't allowed. Unfortunately I'm too old for that. I miss the days of my naiveness. The days I believed in things like Santa and the Easter Bunny. There is no clear division in which I stopped believing because I held onto it for so long. It was something I still can't bare to let go of and every time I refer to Santa when talking to a little child, there's a sadness in me because I know that one day that excitement will end for them too. I still remember the day that my 10 year old sister, 8 at the time, asked me if Santa was just my mom and dad. My heart broke and I strongly enforced that Santa was indeed real, I still don't know for sure if she believed me, but I hope for the sake of her childhood that she did.
In a previous blog post where I answered 50 questions to free my mind, I stated that if I could go back to any age I would choose 12, but now that I have thought more about it, I want to go back to a 5 year old. Still young and innocent and filled with great images and dreams about the world and wishing Peter Pan would come and take me away.

Musical Memories

Do you ever hear a song and instantly remember something from your past? Like that memory is linked to that specific song and every time you hear it the memory replays itself? I can honestly say that nearly every song in my life is linked to a memory, usually good ones. If I listen to my mom's favourite artist, Bon Jovi, I can generate memory on top of memory and I appreciate this. I can remember the good times I've had with my mom through music that appeals to me. It helps me see why I like my mom and overpowers the reasons I don't. Simple memories are so often taken for granted that I have learned to be grateful for the times I remember my mom dancing around the living room with my siblings and I to Lost Highway (Bon Jovi), or how she would sing me to bed nearly every night with Hey Jude or Til' There Was You by The Beatles. It's a new way for me to cherish my childhood. I have playlists that act as my own photo album or home videos, because with every song comes a new memory from my past. I remember Picture by Kid Rock coming on while I was in Subway with my mom just after the song came out and both of us started singing along to it because it was our favourite song at the time. It's such a simple thing to do, but so special in my own way.

Life is Pointless

I'm a big people watcher. Often times I imagine the lives of the people I'm watching, what kind of lives they live and if mine will ever amount to the great things I envision these random strangers accomplishing. It leaves me wondering if anyone ever pictures me leading a perfect life as I wait in line for my coffee. Thinking I have everything together. It's kind of funny when you think about it. No one person leads a perfect life, yet it's what everyone hopes for in their future. The idea of perfect may differ from one person to the next, but in general it's what we all expect. Perfect is one of those words that bothers me. It gives a sense of false hope and just leads to disappointment. It sounds negative, but it's just the harsh truth. No one pictures themselves failing in life, we all have this idea of this supreme future. For me, it's being married with kids, having my PhD., my own office for child therapy, a dog, I could go as far as describing my house to you. I fail to imagine the possibility of divorce, the inability to conceive, failing out of school. We don't see these things happening to us. Divorce is something that happens to your neighbours, not you. It's like cancer. When it happens to someone else it's a sad unfortunate event in life, but when it happens to you, you can't believe it.

Call me negative, cynical, worrisome. Point is I simple don't care. Life almost seems worthless. You go through following the same patterns as every other person. You face struggles, you overcome them or you don't, then one day it just all ends. Your short blip in millions of years, an infinite universe comes to an end and you'll simply be a memory that fades away.

It almost reminds me of the feeling I get in a crowded shopping mall or street. Everyone bustling around you, worrying about their own problems. If you weren't there, no one would notice. You would just be one less body to move around. When time goes on after you die, you slowly become that person on the street that no one notices. No one will know how many hours you wasted away scrolling on the internet, or where you bought your groceries every Sunday afternoon. Because these minute memories and actions fade away with you. Even people in history have faded away. Everyone remembers Hitler and what he did in Germany, but no one knows him beyond that and no one ever will.