September 23, 2012

I’m A Small Child.

I constantly refer to myself as a child in front of my boyfriend. I talk to him about my child stomach that makes it impossible for me to eat a big meal anymore, or how I’m going to go buy this because I am six years old, and so on. It’s just me making fun of my passions and stuff, and that’s fine. It’s a thing. I’m sure as fuck not embarrassed that I spend my free time watching cartoons, and surround myself with plastic ponies and other toys from said cartoons. I’m not going to apologize for 100% buying into the whole Skylander thing, or only wearing t-shirts with cute animals on it. We all have stupid stuff we love. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But goodness, I don’t know. The deeper I go, the more I wonder if I should be concerned.

If you haven’t heard, my family and I are going to Disney World soon. I think in January (!!!). I could seriously not be more excited about this. I haven’t been to Disney World in years, over a decade, and to go and share it with someone I really, really love, is just… well, I’m excited. I think it’ll be fun as shit and romantic and a great time, and I am so pumped I have been listening to Disney World Background Music and shit for weeks now. (The music has made me tear up a few times. How sad is that?)

I had a disagreement with a friend over whether or not Disney World was “romantic.” I think it is. There will be lots of fine dining, and it’s such an overwhelming, awesome place that you want to share with someone you’re close to, you know? That’s what I said. But the more I thought about it, the more maybe that is kind of weird. Maybe it’s strange that I attach childhood so strongly with notions of romance, happiness, and other such positive emotions. And that made me think about… well… everything I do. I started trying to take an objective look at everything I am doing right now. What I enjoy and what my focuses are… everything, you know?

It just kind of shocked me to see how much of my life is focused around reclaiming my childhood. Now, don’t get me wrong. I had a really nice childhood. If I could make that childhood go away, I probably wouldn’t agree to it. I did so many awesome things, made so many awesome friends, and grew up to be, if I can say so, a fucking awesome person. But… it was wrong, you know? I wasn’t myself. I was pretending to be another person, at least slightly, for a whole lot of it. I couldn’t do a lot of things I wanted to do. I couldn’t ask for a lot of things I wanted to have. It was… different than it would have been had I been myself.

I look at what I’m doing now, and I see me finding replacements. I’m watching shows I probably would have felt pressure not to watch. I’m collecting things I probably wouldn’t have had back then, which is driven home every time someone asks me if I had My Little Ponies as a kid and I tell them no. I’m shying away from more “adult” entertainment, such as the dramas that CJ likes to watch. Hell, I’m teaching at the place I went to college, but as myself now, trying to reclaim THAT. I wanted so badly to swim again, because that’s something I used to love to do as a kid, and I wanted to do it with me being right. When I did, I laughed, acted like an idiot, and splashed about in the kiddie area for a lot of the time, totally embarrassing CJ. And now I want to go to Disney World, and reclaim those memories with me being myself as well.

I guess I just don’t know if all that is healthy. A lot of this stuff wasn’t a decision I made because I had some plan to get my childhood back. It’s just shit I want to do. I want to watch Gravity Falls, Mystery Incorporated, and so on, you know? I’m not planning some stupid takeover of my past. But that’s really kind of what it is, isn’t it? I really don’t know if I should be trying to cut that stuff back or not. I doubt I will without pressure, though. I do things I want to do. I’ll go to Disney World and run around and laugh and be a silly little kid with my boyfriend, and that’ll be great. Hopefully he won’t be too embarrassed with me.

Disney World is ROMANTIC AS FUCK. We’ve been twice (with my mom, her sisters and my sister and her soon-to-be-husband), and it’s fun and delightful and Tower of Terror and whatnot, but, like you said, there’s fine dining (I suggest going to Mexico at Epcot, I had AMAZING mole there) and, more than that, it’s carefree. When you’re at Disney, you don’t have to worry about shit except what you’re riding or seeing next. And when you aren’t stressed as shit about money, rent, work, etc., you can focus on holding hands and looking into each others’ eyes and sexytime and all that.

tl;dr: Disney is SEXY AS FUCK.

Comment by Joe D. — September 30, 2012 @ 11:51 am

Yes. We are booking a table at Mexico and France. Also probably the Cape May Cafe, because endless crableg buffet is sexy as fuck.

Comment by Belabor — October 1, 2012 @ 8:59 am

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