Monday, July 18, 2005
Modern Maturity
I’ve decided that I’m going to try to be more of an adult. No, this doesn’t mean that I’m giving up Fruity Pebbles or the Disney Channel; I’d miss the midmorning sugar rush (not to mention the exciting exploits of Phil of the Future) far too much. What is does mean is that I’m aiming to start each Monday morning by quietly riding the train, not by wondering if I’ve been hit by it. I’d like to go for a run because it’s a pleasant thing to do on a summer day, not because I’ve got sixteen jagerbombs and three plates of nachos to work off. And I think it would be downright great if I could spend a whole day reading again, without wondering if someone I know somewhere is doing something crazy and fun or if, God forbid, I’m missing a marathon of Laguna Beach. I’m not saying I’m fully ready yet to make the big move off of Sesame Street to This Old House; right now I’m just looking for something in the neighborhood of Melrose Place.
Because the thing is, all in all, I do strive to be a person of substance. I like reading and writing and going to museums and learning about architecture or psychology or outer space. I was captain of my quiz bowl team in junior high. I played the viola for fun as recently as Saturday. I even watch the news occasionally, if the Seinfeld rerun on opposite to it is one I’m already tired of or if something about J.Lo catches my attention on the crawl. It’s just that it’s so easy, I think, to get distracted by the powerful lure of good weather and cheap liquor and end up doing body shots off of a stranger when secretly you’d be just as happy curled up on the couch with a good Jane Austen novel. I’m going to do my best to reverse this trend; watch for a thrilling series of posts on household repairs and the stuff I’ve read about sociolinguistics.
I’ve decided that I’m going to try to be more of an adult. No, this doesn’t mean that I’m giving up Fruity Pebbles or the Disney Channel; I’d miss the midmorning sugar rush (not to mention the exciting exploits of Phil of the Future) far too much. What is does mean is that I’m aiming to start each Monday morning by quietly riding the train, not by wondering if I’ve been hit by it. I’d like to go for a run because it’s a pleasant thing to do on a summer day, not because I’ve got sixteen jagerbombs and three plates of nachos to work off. And I think it would be downright great if I could spend a whole day reading again, without wondering if someone I know somewhere is doing something crazy and fun or if, God forbid, I’m missing a marathon of Laguna Beach. I’m not saying I’m fully ready yet to make the big move off of Sesame Street to This Old House; right now I’m just looking for something in the neighborhood of Melrose Place.
Because the thing is, all in all, I do strive to be a person of substance. I like reading and writing and going to museums and learning about architecture or psychology or outer space. I was captain of my quiz bowl team in junior high. I played the viola for fun as recently as Saturday. I even watch the news occasionally, if the Seinfeld rerun on opposite to it is one I’m already tired of or if something about J.Lo catches my attention on the crawl. It’s just that it’s so easy, I think, to get distracted by the powerful lure of good weather and cheap liquor and end up doing body shots off of a stranger when secretly you’d be just as happy curled up on the couch with a good Jane Austen novel. I’m going to do my best to reverse this trend; watch for a thrilling series of posts on household repairs and the stuff I’ve read about sociolinguistics.
