On childhood

I had a very productive day on Monday.  I went to class, I ate two meals, I wrote four sentences of a spanish essay, and I played with LEGOs all afternoon (well, cheap, off-brand, we-don't-include-all-the-pieces-not-even-the-sweet-looking-gun building blocks, but what do you expect from a dude with a negative $40,000 a year income? (would that be a $40,000 a year outcome?  Do outcomes exist in a non-"the outcome of this event" sense?))  I had seen a sweet 500-piece aircraft carrier set at Walgreen's the day before, and since it was only 20 bucks, I decided that it couldn't pass it up, so after passing it up on Sunday, I went back on Monday to get it.  "But Young William," you ask, "you're nineteen years old and a college sophomore.  Haven't you outgrown that kind of stuff?"  To that I respond: not a chance.  It took a few hours to build, the final product was kind of a piece (read: the people are significantly bigger than the airplanes), and it was as much fun as it was when I was little.

Approximate ratio of sailor to plane

In recent months, I've been really concerned about growing up.  I'm only 103 days from leaving my teenage years, and because of this, I'm fairly sure that I have to do certain things such as "maturing", "becoming responsible", and "not acting like a 4 year-old."  For obvious reasons, this is mortifying. 

A few recent events have made me realize that maybe it isn't so bad.  First, reading Stuart's incredible essay on happiness made me feel better about myself, and when that started wearing off the LEGOs were right there to pick me up.

Basically, this stupid, 496-piece, fake, badly-proportioned LEGO boat reminded me that childhood is a state of mind as opposed to a time period.  Childhood only ends when we decide it has to end.

I'm not completely sure what the kid on the right is doing to make the kid in the middle scream like that, but the little girl seems to be enjoying herself.

The best part about kids is that they live in the moment.  They have nothing to worry about, no pressures, no cares, no nothing.  The only things that concern them are enjoying themselves in the moment.  They love the things that we all love, but they love the little things just as much.  They laugh at little jokes, they don't worry about why they're doing things, they don't worry about how they'll be judged.  They just act.  That's not saying that they will disregard everything in the future (they're not that stupid), it's just saying that they might as well enjoy the here and now, because before they know it, it'll be gone.  Seems a lot like life if you ask me...

I've heard the phrase, "You have to learn to love the little things."  That's ridiculous.  We all know how to love the little things already, but too often we push it aside, too often we worry about tomorrow, too often ignore these beautiful moments in order to agonize over totally unrelated big things.  Why?  I'm not really sure.  If we can't take the time to smile now because we think we have to figure out how to get a job I think we have our priorities messed up.

Editor's Note: "In Between Days," by Ben Folds (originally by The Cure) just came on shuffle.  "What are the first words, Young William?" you may ask.  Well, here's the answer:
Yesterday i got so old
I felt like i could die
Yesterday i got so old
It made me want to cry
Go on go on
Just walk away
Go on go on
Your choice is made
How perfect is that for what we're talking about?  After that, the song becomes a lot less relevant, but seriously, this is awesome.  Just don't give up on childhood.  We all know that giving up on important things is stupid anyway.

There are people in this world who try to grow up.  They try to act mature, they try to make your decisions for you, and overall they act like their job is to run your life.  They don't allow for experimentation, they don't try things that are scary (Editor's note: The best advice that Young William's mother (an incredible woman) told him was that he should "do hard things."  They make us who we are)

Editor's note: This just came on iTunes.  Start listening.  I promise it's worth it.

At this point, I'd like to tell you about a few of my favorite people.  These people pretty much radiate joy.  The first is involved in everything.  She's in band, choir, runs cross-country and track, does a lot for her church, has incredibly good grades, and is a wonderful sister.  She has a million reasons to be angry and stressed, but I've never seen her seem anything but upbeat and positive.  I think about things that stress me out, compare them to what she has on her plate, and realize that if she can handle everything she does and still be happy, I can probably figure out a way to juggle my few problems and still stay positive.  She loves everything that she does, she finds the little joys in all of it, and she reaps the benefits.  She's a child, both physically and at heart, and she's one of the most mature people that I know.

The second is my barber.  Every time that I go in to get my hair cut, George tells me that he "has more fun at work than anybody," and it's completely true.  He laughs, he jokes, he plays around, he thinks he's a pirate, and he manages to improve the mood of everyone around him.  George is a grandfather, but his childhood never ended and shows no signs of doing so.  He is also one person that I trust as much as anybody.  Keep in mind that I've only known him for two years and that I see him once a month for twenty minutes.  That adds up to a total of eight hours I've spent with the guy.  He's just somebody that can be trusted, somebody that opens up, somebody that I'm sure would love to play with LEGOs if given the opportunity.  Haircutting isn't a job that most people would consider glamorous, but George believes that most people are wrong.  He loves his job, he takes pride in his job, and because of that, I admire him as much as I admire anyone.  If I can't find a job that makes me as happy as George's does for him, I know that I better keep looking.  George loves the little things.  He doesn't worry about what other people think, and he'll be a little kid forever.

Doesn't he just look like a happy man?

Neither of these people are immature in any regards.  They're two of the most mature people that I know.  They don't fit the common definition of maturity, though.  Maturity isn't doing things that we're "supposed to do."  Maturity is having the courage to do things that most people are afraid to do and being able to stay confident in yourself and have pride in what you do.  When you can do these things without having to give second and third thoughts to what the popular opinion is, that's when you have reached maturity.  So maybe we should look at kids a little bit more.  Little kids don't worry about what other people think about them; they just play.  They enjoy themselves.  They take advantage of the moment.  They love the small things.

I'm nineteen years old.  I loved spending my afternoon playing with LEGOs.  I still have an infatuation with trains.  I still believe there's a way that I'll end up playing Major League Baseball.  I'm fairly confident that I'll retire to Port Douglas, Australia.  I know that I'm surrounded by enough good things that there's no reason to ever be sad for more than a little while.

I'm not planning on giving up my childhood anytime soon.  This doesn't mean I'm going to throw temper tantrums and this doesn't meant that I won't be planning for the future, but it does mean that I'm not going to force myself to "outgrow" anything.  Different small joys will come and go and we'll all have different desires, but I don't think it's ever a good idea to do things just because they're "supposed" to happen, or just because it's what we're "supposed" to do, or because it's what other people, or even our friends, tell us it's what they want us to do.  We should love what we love because we love it, just like children do.  There don't need to be secondary consequences.  We may not be children anymore, but that doesn't mean our childhoods are over.  It's logic like that that sucks the fun out of the world.