February 8, 2005 @ 12:48 am by sean
When I was 3 and 4, I went to Montessori at St. Peter’s in Detroit. Everyday we’d have a play time, and I’d get with my usual group of friends and we’d usually play family. Two of the girls that played were twins, and I might have been young, as well as them, but I knew they were cute. Whenever we played family, one of the girls was always the mother, so I consequently always wanted to be the baby, ’cause the baby got to be with mom the most.
I also crapped my pants once and wouldn’t leave the bathroom until my mum came and dropped off a clean pair of pants. And I got a bloody nose once and was too embarassed to get tissue. And the older kids went into another room, my sister included, and I would often be too scared to be alone with all the other kids and I would cry until I got to go with my sister.
And to this day, I’m still this same boy after a girls own heart.
I think it’s time for me to grow up. I think maybe it’s time for me not to be cute anymore. Cute in actions obviously. But if I don’t have that, what do I have?
I get shy when I’m around a lot of people. Like at Jason’s house on Saturday. So I wear my Adidas jacket and zip it up and try and hide my face. And don’t make eye contact. I don’t talk to hardly anyone who doesn’t talk to me first.
Girls are worse. Unless I know them, I won’t talk to them unless they talk to me first. It would take an extreme situation for me to talk first. Like ‘excuse me’ so I get get through the door way. And I think that if she talks to me, she must like me. That is a bit more complex though. And if I like her, even worse. My voice and demeanor change. I get inhibited and apprehensive. I can’t talk in complete thoughts.
I’m scared to be alone at night. If I’m at home and my parents are out of town, I try to stay at someone else’s if I can.
I spin in chairs.
I sit in chairs curled up with my knees to my chest.
I want to talk to animals.
I’m too scared to watch scary movies.
I still have acne.
I wish I live in the Shire.
I get cranky when I don’t get enough sleep.
I sit and stand on tables.
I don’t know how to respect a girl.
I don’t like nudity or sex in movies. And if it can be avoided in art I prefer that too. I get uncomfortable seeing it.
Even if I could grow decent facial hair, I wouldn’t want to because facial hair is to adult.
I still want my old brown shoes because I don’t want to be stylish, stylish is for adults.
I have another personality named ‘Johnny’ who is and 1920-30’s mob leader. Johnny is a real man. Cool, respected, authoritative, confident, intelligent, mature, smart, witty, everything I’m not. I’ve a pirate name, but I forgot it. I have a French name too, because I want to be all French, but can’t be. These people don’t have personalites though.
What does all this make me? Cute. I don’t necessarily mind it, I think maybe it’s time for me not to be that anymore. Not do the things that elicit the response, ‘oooooh Sean, you’re so cute.’ But if I didn’t get that response, what would I get? It’s the one I get more than anything. It’s who I am. But maybe that shouldn’t be who I am anymore. I will be 21 this year. I will have the last legal responsibilities granted to me. I got asked to be in a wedding. I will finish my third year of college and begin my fourth. If things had gone normal, I’d graduate college in a year. In a year! I would be done with my formal education and begin the rest of my life in a year! I graduated high school two and a half years ago. That’s a long time. I have to start looking for internships and get a portfolio ready, and I’m starting to feel nervous about something I’ve not felt nervous about before, probably because it was so far away. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see someone who is almost 21. I see a 20 year old boy. I see the same ‘cute’ Sean I was in high school. And middle school. And elementary school. And Montessori. I know more, I’ve gathered more wisdom, I’ve experienced more, but that is still all I am. Over break I spoke with J.D. He asked something I really appreciated. He asked me what I was thinking at the time, because I’m usually pondering something. I like the cute Sean. It’s fun. But I also like being the Sean that I was to J.D. My answer to that question was motivations. Trying to figure out what is the base motivation for everything I do, because a lot of things seemed to have the same intrinsic motivation. And questioning what the motivation of others is. What’s my motivation for wanting to grow up? To become a man after God’s own heart. Probably not. Probably the same motivition it’s always been.
What is a man? How do I become one? Will I ever be one? Is there a deadline I should be a man by?
I look at Brandon, and Jason, and Mike, and Ben, and John and even if they are older, I don’t act like they do. I like who I am, but should I be more like them? More grown up? I do do grown up things. I like discussing things. I like reading intellectual literature. I have investments in IRA’s and mutual funds. I try not to be ignorantly annoyingly immature. I have an idea and a dream and a plan for my career and what it will take to get there. Maybe that’s it though.
Friday I went to Jen and Angie’s and they made dinner. Brandon was there, and Amy, and J.D., and Sarah and it was fantastic. It was a splendid time. Saturday Angie took me to the store so I could get stuff for carrot cake, and then I went back to her apartment and made it. And did homework. And then I went with Lauren and Nathan and Ian to Jason’s house. That was amazing. Bradley Hathaway was great, as was Philly, as was the fellowship. Then we came back and I ‘watched’ Newsies with Brandon, and Amy, and Kristen(sp?), and Rayne, and Ian and Lauren. I’d never seen it, and I still won’t count this as seeing it because I only looked at the screen for about half. The other half I looked at the inside of my eye lids. Sunday Angie took/went with me to 2nd B. It was a great message. Black History Month is a great time to go to a predominantly black church. Then I came back and did homework, and then watched the Super Bowl.
This weekend deserved a lot more words than that. Friday was really great. That is the kind of fun I like to have most with my friends. And Saturday was the kind of fun I like to have most in life. It was a neat experience, and I’m so thankful it happened. Sunday was kind of laid back. I haven’t followed football hardly at all this year, but I’m glad I got to watch the game. It was a wonderful weekend regardless of the small amount of sleep, and it deserves still more words.
Ever notice Great Britain is a country, while Great America is a theme park?
I just briefly went through my posts and looked for the longest one. It was 2,855 words. This one is 1,207 inlcuding this paragraph. It doesn’t seem that long.