"So, you know I used to play basketball in middle school, ten years ago and that I....." Then halfway through, I stopped. My foot stopped halfway in the air and I gulped at the air like a fish out of water for a about second that felt like it took much longer than only one.
Ten years ago. If I can say things like that, I'm getting old. Ten years ago, I was falling out of my unrequited love for a cold-hearted boy called Anders, I had realized that I had fallen in love with one of my best friends without the vaguest idea of how to handle this feeling. Ten Years ago, my sister was still a fat, blubbery, smiling baby and my brother was about to be born. I could almost do the splits, my parents still read aloud to me before going to bed. My grandmother still told me to brush my teeth and played the piano. My grandmother...Oh, ten years ago was probably one of the happiest times of my life.
All these thoughts flashed through my head, and I nearly started hyperventilating. Instead, I put my foot down, picked the other one up to keep walking, and started laughing. Laughing is my immediate reaction when I get stressed, nervous, awkward...I laugh when I have no idea how I am supposed to react. It's gotten me in trouble before. But in this case, it just brought a quizzical "and-i-thought-adults-were-supposed-to-be-smart-and-super-serious" smile to my brother's face. Which made everything better instantly better.
I guess that's why I love getting silly nicknames - Ami, Barbie, Zamz and AHoney so far - I don't want to grow up in the complete sense. Why I don't mind calling attention to my 'blonde moments', why I enjoy stomping my feet in the mud sometimes or riding a bike way too fast through a puddle. Or why I insist on laughing at the really stupid or completely assinine jokes. I never ever want to stop laughing - to guffaw even if it isn't ladylike. If I do, I'll have admitted my age. I'll have admitted that I've lost any innocence I may have had.
I've always been a bit too mature for my age. I've always known how to deal with situations that were slightly out of my emotional maturity or understanding. As an example, I already know the mechanical aspect or technical aspect of how to be a mother - I know what things I should or shouldn't do, like how to clean diapers, sterilize a bottle, etc. I know what sort of tricks exist for getting a baby to sleep or to eat or almost anything else. I have that emotional capacity... that feminine maturity. I also knew way too much about sex - more than I was supposed to know, ten years ago - I sort of stumbled upon a copy of the Kama Sutra lying about in our library room and started reading. The first parts are delightful - and very ritualistic. Very traditional - all the rules and expectations about self-purification/beautification, how to court a woman properly, what exactly one should do during the first date, how to introduce yourself to her parents, what to do when meeting her parents, etc. The 'naughty' instructional part is only a small part of the entire thing really. And when I did get to that part, I didn't really understand all the terms until about halfway through. I had this habit of reading almost anything that I could get my hands on. So I read some pretty interesting books that ... to be honest, were definitely not appropriate for my age. I still have this habit - although now, of course, ten years later, almost everything is appropriate. Even NC-17. Haha.
The kitten keeps attacking my fingers as I type this, attracted by the sound of the clacking and clicking keys, so I think this is where I'll stop for now. Instead, I'm going to go reassert my inner child and go play with the kittens - laughing at their paws, which still seem a little too big for their bodies.
The Totoro plushie that I received as a gift from Japan proved to be a great hit:
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