I plan on making this a short entry because I’m a little short on time due to my chronic procrastination (really, this is becoming a problem).
Today I was reading, Pass the Plate, Mr. Feynman, from Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself by Alan Alda. It seems to be an autobiography of sorts; in this section he explains his curiosity stemming from his childhood and growing into adulthood with the same, if not greater, sense of curiosity. In a specific part, early in the reading, he writes,
“Allowing this childish curiosity to continue on through my whole life has given me satisfaction and maybe even a sense of meaning. It stimulates a part of my brain that registers pleasure; and whether it has meaning or not, it feels as though it does. No matter how old I get, I have the feeling that if I can keep this curiosity flame lit, I’ll see the world in a way that never gets stale. Life will have a taste that delights. Maybe that isn’t actual meaning or purpose, but somehow it sets that worry aside. And I don’t want to lose it,”.
This reminds me of my English teacher, just trying to get the most out of life and trying to have fun. Honestly (not trying to suck up here, I swear), this is something I admire because it’s almost as if there’s something reminiscent of childhood there, which many people my age have already lost. It’s something that I can feel slipping, and something that I want to catch and hold on to ‘cause growing up sucks. Reading how Alda found so much happiness just watching clouds go by makes me miss childhood so much more. I want to go back to when pinky promises were sacred, when I could use words like never, and never ever and really believe them, when summer camp was the bees knees and not just a summer filled with drinking and “partying”; I want to go back to the time before puberty and pimples and girls and pointless, teenage drama; I just want to go back to when all these thoughts and questions of loss and heartbreak and happiness and guilt and shame and just plain, old sadness, that are far beyond my understanding, weren’t an issue. I miss being happy for no reason.
As a part of growing up, I’ve taken it upon myself to figure out who I am as early as possible. And for the most part, I’d say I’ve been pretty successful. But what do I know? I’m seventeen. Maybe I think I know who I am, and maybe I think I’m right. I’ve examined that most teenagers think they’re right, though, and they often turn out to be wrong to the max. Yeah, I said to the max. Anyhow, from this chapter/article/essay/whatever-the-hell-it-is, I’ve decided to open up myself to new things and interact with the things that interest me. I mean really interact with them and research them, instead of just shrugging things off like I normally do. I’m going to do this, and hopefully it will open up my mind to new things, and give me some new insight as to who I am, who I want to be and who I will be.
- Seacrest OUT
Smolkaa-I can relate because we had the same English teacher! I took her "just trying to get the most out of life and trying to have fun" as immature. She was simply and immature teacher, who should change her grading policy because she ruined my papers. (the end on that one) Also, you make such a great point about losing childhood. You don't know it now(or maybe you do because you're pretty insightful(you're awesome)), but high school is still your childhood. We are children, I look back at my freshman and sophmore year through the current frosh and sophies, and I realize I was such a kid. I still am a kid. You're a bigger kid than I am. Everyone thinks "oh goodness I'm a senior I'm soo old. I'm the boss." No. You're a kid! Once you're in college you can start trying being an adult, but certainly not in high school. Even if you're one of those older seniors that turns eighteen right when school starts. Don't try so hard to figure out who you are, let others help you figure out who you are along the way, and one day you'll realize.
ReplyDeleteLet's watch cloudz sometime.