Adulting…Yuk

Adulting…….yuk

It was all fun and games until we had to do it. We role played and acted with the skill of an accomplished star. The difference was we were kids. Rather it was doctor, husband, singer, wife, lawyer, nurse, policeman, or bank robber, we were fully invested in our roles, but we were just children. You ever notice that we played big roles? I never played the paperboy, garbage man, or school janitor. Girls never played shampooer, side chick, or dish washer. When we starred, we played the big roles. In bedrooms, basements, and backyards, we were expressive, passionate, and fully invested in our roles. The crazy thing was we were just babies.

You want to see real movie stars? Don’t look at Hollywood and in Big play houses, look in bedrooms, in closets, cubbies, and behind closed doors where creativity is free to roam through the hearts and minds of children. Without big budgets, wardrobe, makeup artist, and entourage, you will find children who embody the role and script that they have committed to.

Improvisation you say? Think on their feet? The ability to create a script that flows flawlessly without one sheet of paper? Kids are powerful. Choreography you say? You haven’t seen the likes of it until a group of kids ask their parents to come and watch them perform in the living room in five minutes. I mean music, light show, announcer, and props to boot. All by the likes of children.

Then the director said, “Cut!!”or Momma said, “Wash your hand, come on and eat!!” Maybe it was the street lights that said it’s time to go home? All you know is something or someone ended that scene and you were back in reality, just like that.

A few years pass by and before you know it, Now we are Adulting.

We wake up to real. Real bills, mortgage, car notes, insurance, real husbands and wives with attitudes, emotions, and opposing points of view. Maybe it’s the contracts, legal battles, the expectations, the fears, the deadlines, the critics, the reviews, the jealousy and envy, the investment and financial liability?

Something assassinated the creative YOU. Murder she wrote and misery she wrought. The artist died, the singer/song writer died, the dancer died, the authentic you died and you buried it without a proper funeral or memorial service. All you know is, “Love don’t live here no more.” Creativity and the ability to flow freely has taken a life long sabbatical somewhere in the depths of your mind and soul. “Grow up,” is what they tell you.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say they remain a kid at heart. A kid at heart? Does Adulting mean you lose your heart? This is what irks me. Adults know every doggone thing. They make me sick. The “Adult me” makes me sick at times. They predict outcomes and sadly enough, they are always the negative ones. Their tainted past of heartbreak, disappointment, use and abuse, has shaped their what they call, wisdom and experience. They judge the entire world and species of humankind by it. They are judge and juror in the closed case of your future without you taking the stand or hearing any evidence. They can predict failure in any future potentials in your life at first glance and will freely warn you concerning everything they wouldn’t do.

They stomp the living daylights out of any dream or vision that you offer up. I’m not really sure what daylights are, but they stomp them out. Maybe that’s what hope is, daylights. Maybe their is hope at night, but daylights are for hope when the lights are on? Why else would we need daytime running lights on cars? See, this is what I mean!! Somebody just said, “Grow up Wilford, everything ain’t a joke!! Stay focused!!” My response is, “Um is..”

Do as much Adulting as you have to, but don’t forget to love, dream, create, risk, laugh, and play, as a kid. It is the untainted, uncharted island where the real you lives. Don’t you take any adults there. Keep it uncharted.

Wil

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