My younger sister started her dual enrollment at the local technical college this morning. My younger brother starts his freshman year at the Citadel this weekend. I start my senior year next week.
My, oh my, where'd the years go?
I guess all we can do is honor God with our hours, and trust Him in the moments, because He sees the years behind us and the years before us.
Those years are made of months, weeks, days, hours, and moments.
This debilitating illness has many symptoms, but the most common are fidgeting in class, daydreaming while having purposed to finish homework, boredom, and itchy, watery eyes that mimic the symptoms of spring fever.
Senioritis doesn't only affect those in their fourth year of college: it can affect those as fresh and new as those in their first year.
But this doesn't have to be your reality.
To counteract the symptoms, pop in a classic Disney movie.
Take them bowling.
Feed them.
Offer any and all distractions.
They'll know instinctively when it is time to return to the grind.
Example: many, many moons ago, my uncle gave me the EXTENDED edition of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers for Christmas. I began to watch it as soon as I could, and my mom fell asleep on the couch next to me. She woke up during a scene with the Ents (which she now loves because they "help the short guys") and said, "What is that?"
I told her they were Ents.
Now, my mom has been in the medical field for a while, so she was probably like "ear nose and throat . . . ???"
She looked at the screen, looked at me, and back at the screen.
"I'm going back to sleep."
Now, that isn't to say we don't have anything in common, and this proves it.
For Christmas I decided to get my mom two movies she liked when we were kids but hadn't seen in a long time, probably coinciding with the VHS to DVD transition.
I bought her Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Now, just take a wild guess as to what was in my stocking . . . ?
Yep.
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Whoever said great minds think alike was right.
And here's my favorite part of Mary Poppins (because everyone loves this part, and if you don't, go get your head checked now before healthcare prices shoot up):
And from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, because I don't think it's nearly as popular as it should be:
Something happened the other day that really made me think. I'll get to what happened later on, so bear with me: what does "growing up too fast" really mean?
(And bear with me; it took me over a week to write this, and some parts really still don't feel quite right, but I'm posting it anyways.)
"Growing up too fast" used to mean that a child had to shoulder responsibilities and had to entertain concepts that would force them to leave childish things behind before most would have them do that. For instance, in the past, children were working full time around the age of fifteen, either because their parents had died, they were needed to help support the family, or they were considered old enough to take on that responsibility. Advancements in namely medical science and technology of all flavors enabled children to have more of an actual childhood.
But what did that bring?
For the purpose of this . . . "article", it brought free time.
Children were able to stay children until they were physically, mentally, and emotionally ready to take on the responsibilities of an adult. They could grow into it gradually, they could be trained, they could be taught, they could consider ideas and grasp the weight of the consequences to every action . . . they could be ready for an adult life.
Then there was too much free time.
Ungratefulness.
Envy.
Always wanting what was just beyond their grasp.
What do we have now?
We have children growing up too fast, but not in the way of the generations before them.
They have too much free time and a care-free (and care-less) attitude.
And although I can't quite put my finger on it, that's what's driving kids today to act the way they do.
What do I mean by that?
Whilst shopping with my mom and my sister, I saw this girl in Rue 21. Don't get me wrong - I love that store. It's one of the few places I actually enjoy clothes shopping. This really doesn't have anything to do with the store really. That's just where I was. But this girl . . . she had to have been younger than my sister, so maybe fourteen years old. But she looked like a . . . well . . . like a prostitute. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. Her clothes, the way she wore them, the way her makeup was done - and for the record, I have a personal thing about girls that young wearing makeup - the way her hair was done . . . that's what she looked like. If she was on the street at night, I would have thought she was one.
But I remember looking at her and thinking, "Wow. She's grown up too fast."
Then it hit me: society tries to keep us busy, entertained . . . it tries to keep us children.
But in spite of that, we grow up. . . And not always in the best way.
So yeah. I just felt like I should post that.
I mean, innocence is an awesome thing.
Not naivete, that's not necessarily the same thing.
But innocence, purity . . . That's a lost treasure in this society.
I naturally have blonde hair.
It was nearly white when I was a toddler, and when I was about seven, I started getting these dark streaks underneath.
A lot of people complemented me on it, and I guess I sort of liked it. I really can't remember.
About three years ago, it started getting really dark.
I look like a brunette.
Nothing against brunettes: my mom's a brunette and my sister is a brunette.
I just like the excuse being blonde provides don't like it on me.
I got highlights two or three times, but they were really expensive.
After that, I figured dying my whole head for $7 is better than dying half of it for $100.
Nope.
The first time it turned out orangey and brassy.
Lasted for a while, then I asked my friend to help me dye my hair.
That one turned out less brassy, but still wasn't the blonde I was looking for.
Fast forward to now, about two months later.
I took a shower and thought the water looked funny. I thought it was just the water; we've been having storms lately, and sometimes that affects it.
Got out, and didn't think anything of it.
Come back a few hours later . . .
ORANGE. RESIDUE. EVERYWHERE.
I honestly cannot remember what brand or what it was, but I know it foamed.
I'm not saying this is a typical result either, because I wasn't using special shampoo or anything.
All I know is that I washed my hair and my white bathtub turned orange.
This is also why you ought not dye blonde hair blonde: it's nearly impossible to nail the color yourself, and unless you want to look like a pumpkin head for about two months, I'd just stay out of the hair color aisle all together.
After a decade of being left at home for several hours at a time with no supervision save my own, I have discovered that the imagination begins to populate said enclosure of living with monsters, murderers, and other unpleasantries. This increases exponentially after the sun has set.
Here, I give some illustrations of the average human's ability to cope with / exist in denial of said horrors.
So, my mom and I are watching Sleeping Beauty.
Well, I'm watching it; she's napping.
But I was just thinking . . . there's got to be more to the story (stories, really) than Mr. Disney and his peeps are tellin' us.
So!
To rectify this situation, I have decided to rewrite my favorite princess stories.
And -- to be perfectly honest -- if you would die if the story was 'ruined' for you . . . ya probably ought not read what I'm going to write . . .
The other day I was poking around on the internet.
No big deal.
I stumbled across one interesting thing, and that led to another interesting one, until I found this:
SOME KID IS SELLING HIS PIECE OF THE AGGRO CRAG!!!!!
THAT IS A BIG DEAL!!!
If I were that kid, I'd hang on to that thing forever!
I used to watch that show all the time, and I had always wanted to climb the Aggro Crag!
Every red-blooded kid in the WORLD did!
And that got me thinking: there were a lot of stinkin' awesome shows in the 90's, especially on Nick GAS.
Obviously, GUTS and Global GUTS.
And Figure It Out!.
And Scaredy Camp.
And last and definitely not least, Legends of the Hidden Temple.
On a whim, I searched for it on Youtube.
IT.
WAS.
THERE!
I was so excited!
I watched an entire episode, reliving the glory days.
And, naturally, those temple guards made me jump every time.
I felt like I was 9 again.
. . .
And then I remembered my college homework, and suddenly, I was 19 again.
