When I Grow Up, I Want to be A Little Boy

In January of this year, Boston was buried under about 44 inches of snow.

I spent the better part of that week [or so] truding through the sloppy melting remants; spinning and slipping once the winter wind chills the muck and slush on the sidewalk into merciless ice. I can hardly contend with the razor-toothed winds biting through my jeans and woefully unsuitable denim jacket - let alone prancing and dancing around like one of those bloodless spandex gripped bitches at the ice capades and damn near snapping my spine just so I can get to the bar... or to the bar... or to the bar... or to the pub. And even as the wonderful winter miracle of snow [that's right, Kozak. Sarcasm! Very good!] was being shat out on the streets and sidewalks [with me safely indoors] I was annoyed. Bristling. Splenetic. Fucking pissed.

Someone's gonna have to shovel up that shit. [God hates me]

And that got me thinking... When I was about nine, I was having similar thoughts. Though they were more like:

Someone's gonna have to shovel up that shit! No School! [Jesus make-out!]

In 4th grade, nothing beats a snow day. Not even Saturday morning cartoons. It's the 9 nine year-old boy equivilant of a death row pardon or winning lottery ticket or fantastic sex. And isn't it funny how on that day no 9 year old has trouble getting out of bed at all? We're up snow-suited and out by 8 AM, our bellies sloshing with captain crunch and hastily downed OJ ready to built snow forts and pen our names in the snow.

Now? I'm like every other 20-something urbanite. I hate snow - period. Sure, it's "beautiful" but who gives a shit. I doubt everyone would be so starry-eyed if the sky was suddently filled with falling Natalie Portmans and Brooke Burnses. I'm mean hell I guess that would be kinda hot. But beauty is no justification for shit falling from the sky. Snow fucks up my morning commute [shut it, Kozak] and any of my other plans - by which I mean heading to the bar to drink and complain about my job and America.

And the nine year old version of me had one up on 20 year old me besides appreciation for snow. He was totally carrer and goal oriented.

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up, lil' Drew?
A: A fireman, bitch! - gimme a soda! [groin kick!]

A fireman. Boom. No quiet contemplation. No moral dilemas. No parental consultation. No soul searching or spiritual questing or examination of inner children. No. None of that shit. Just an enthusiastic cry of "Fireman!" and a well executed kick to the balls. Case closed.

Don't get me wrong. There are some clear advantages to being an adult - most of them involve beer and voting but they're there. I wouldn't give those up just to fall in love with snow and cartoons again. What I do miss is the decisiveness of the younger ignorant me. I was sure I wanted to be a fireman because that's what came to mind at the time of asking. There was too much fun to be had to consider the future too carefully.

These days like most folk my age I'm gagging on indecision daily. We all go through the motions of what we believe will lead us to success [read: approval] but our hearts aren't in it. And those of us who finally decide to stop and look around at what we're making of our lives find it pretty hard to get going again. We're numb to the previous generation's feverish desire for wealth and status. We've been brought up to believe in a system that rewards those who work and study hard and, despite our best efforts, we remain hollow and unsatisfied. The rewards we fought so hard for just aren't as attractive anymore. What do I want to be when I grow up? What do I have to look forward to other than frantic paper chasing and deep-throat debt? What more is their to life then those shallow pursuits?

I've given up on being rich and successful [read: gov./parent approved]. I honestly have. And I'm not the only one. Sure, there are plenty of us plodding along snatching up degrees and sweet jobs but I'd like to believe that they're the minority... and they're hollow inside. We want satisfaction, damn it! We want our lives to have mattered to someone other than a statistician. We long for recognition and acceptance of the people we truly are regardless of our dedication to the status quo. And 20-something is about the time that we realize neither money nor degrees alone are going to help us achieve that goal. I don't think I speak for myself alone when I say that I want to be motivated by something other than dead white men on paper and fancy "Look at how smart you are" documents validating me behind glass. I want to be driven by genuine passion.

I'm realizing now that my impromptu uprooting from CT and hasty transfer to Boston were all a part of that; establishing independence, pursuing 'the dream' [damn the torpedoes!], taking the road less traveled, et cetera, ad nauseam, ad. infinitum. And I'm also realizing that, in part at least, it was bullshit impatience winning out over careful planning. It's funny – I'm sure we can all look back and see how our lust for success has driven us to make rash decisions on more than one occasion. Sure, we may feel like we're doing something, moving forward, what have you but, ultimately we end up fucking ourselves in the ass more often than not. And, thanks to the magic of hindsight, it's pretty clear afterwards that most [if not all] of that pain could have been avoided if we had just... well settled down a wee bit.

"everyone talks a good game. myself included. everyone talks about how good things are going to be. all the great things they are about to do. how they are all ready to do something once a few things are taken care of. it's all such beautiful bullshit. only justifying living in a stale existence in the present, because the future is always brighter. i fuck everything up because i'm so impatient. i don't want to wait. i want my dessert now. i shouldn't have to eat green beans just to get to it."

--K. Frenette – [sophist-o-phunk]

Sound familiar?

Look. I'm hardly advocating a forethinkers approach to life [::pointing at pot::: “Nigger!”] but I'll be damned if it doesn't have it's advantages. In the heat of the moment [which, let's face it, damn near every moment at our age] all of that is forgotten. I feel so anxious to get started NOW and reach my goals NOW – it's tough to admit that maybe I need to rethink some of my goals and plans for the future. Am I alone here?

Whatever happened to pure optimism? Does everything have to be cut with reality? When I was six, I got high on nothing but the best – the china white optimism that dreams are made of. I couldn't be touched. Dropped my ice cream cone? Whatever. Who wants to play football?

Now? I get a hit of that shit on the weekends if I'm lucky. The rest of the time I'm dry swallowing reality tablets every 4-6 hours and sporting soggy adult diapers of success to catch all my bullshit. And it's fucking hard to snatch off the foggie pampers and cork up the cornhole. Everyone will see me; naked, a little afraid, a little lonely, vulnerable, and love starved. I know I know... what am I even talking about, right? Old folks and heroin and little kids? – what a winning combination! By now, I expected to be a professional something or even an expert of sorts in one area or another. Instead, I know a little about a lot of things and, as such, am damn near unhireable.Nobody really wants a "master of none".

As a kid, life was much simpler.

When I grow up [now that I'm grown up] I hope all my dreams and aspirations are left intact. I hope I'm able to flee the undead bite of the 9 to 5 zombie. I pray that I don't fall in with the back alley apathy junkies. When I grow up, I still want to have red hot [!] hope for the future. I want to be able to dream as wildly as ever. I don't want to stop loving and missing and caring and hoping and just plain feeling for people - openly. I'm pretty sure that's important. When I grow up, I want to have toys, friends, teachers, and nap time. I want to wake up feeling “Today is the only day that matters! Time for oatmeal!” I want to watch Saturday morning cartoons in my underpants.

When I grow up, I hope I haven't forgotten how to be a little boy.

[I'm gonna go play outside]

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GonzoGHDSI: I love the bathroom
GonzoGHDSI: its the only place you can go