I consider myself a fun person. I like to have fun. People seem to have fun around me. But I’m generally not the type to completely let go and have fun without any sort of cares or concerns. I have trouble just “being young and foolish.” Overriding a ridiculously logical brain is quite a challenge.
However, a few weeks ago in mid-July, I had one of the “youngest” weekends I’ve had in a long time. Friday night my cousin and I ate ice cream in his car and talked. We saw a late-night showing of Jersey Boys at the movie theater; we owned the joint until someone interrupted our rendition of “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?” making us almost poop our pants or spill our popcorn. We talked and laughed and listened to the radio way too loud as we drove home past curfew. Saturday morning we drove around, radio pounding, singing at the top of our lungs. We took a detour to Super Walmart for fun. That night, I went to a party at my mom’s work friend’s house on her farm. I got to meet all my mom’s work friends and their families (it sounds horrible, but they were all really great!). Plus, I got to speak with two Spanish boys! I got a “Gator” tour of the garden, and we all sat up in the barn on firefly-lookout. Such a fun night! Then on Saturday we went to Festa Italiana for Mass and some yummy Italian food (including gelato!). Seriously the best weekend I had in a long time. Needless to say, I was very tuckered out after all of that.
So, yeah, I had a great weekend, blah blah blah. But really, the reason that I had such a great weekend was because I let myself “be young.” I stopped caring about anything other than the here and now. I stopped worrying that old people would grumble “stupid teenagers!” at me. I stopped being my typical mature self and just let go. And it was such a liberating feeling!
I’ve always been mature for my age. Countless times I’ve been told that as a four-year-old, I was already holding coherent conversations with adults as if I were thirty. I consistently get mistaken for being in my mid-twenties at work. I look mature, and I act it. Which has its pros and cons. But mostly, it means that high school was never my thing, and I’m a little more tightly wound than the average eighteen-year-old. Let’s just say the masseuse found a pretty bad knot in my shoulder…
There’s something to be said for acting your age. I don’t do it enough. I need to get my head out of the future and into the present because, right now, the present is way more fun! Besides, youth is fleeting, and as soon as it’s gone, we’ll wish it wasn’t.
We are young. It’s important to remember that. Because being young is fun. And there’s nothing wrong with that.