I was telling this to my kid today. He’s almost 16, and of course, knows everything. He really does though as he focuses on school, getting his black belt, and expands his art portfolio. He’s usually been a bit of a loner, but he has this friend who I think has it all in perspective. She’s smart and silly and talented and just looks like she’s got Life’s number in her pocket. I was happy to find out they have lunch together. I asked him something I thought he’d know but he said he didn’t because he said he tends to do his homework during lunch. I asked him why doesn’t he just do that when he gets home. He said he wanted to get it done early so that he didn’t have to stress it. This led to a discussion about priorities and stress and my meanderings down memory lane.
He keeps his grades high. But remembering things isn’t a problem for him and he’s a junior already on track for a decent start to life soon. I told him it’s time to chill out a little bit - enjoy the ride. True there’s a lot a stress these days. High School is crazy. This world is crazier. But never again is the absurdity of it all going to feel as pure. I spent my teen years mostly either confused or heartbroken - but I laughed hard, cried often, and lived deliberately. Sometimes I worry that in all his getting it right, he doesn’t.
I told him how I was sneaking out one night when I was his age - my parents were divorcing and my dad told me to go pack a bag for the week to stay at my friend’s house. There was an aluminum ladder that went up to the roof under my window. It was a fire escape according to my dad but it was really just another way out. I was almost finished when my step mother came home early. I had slinked out the window and was pondering the potential noise of the aluminum ladder when my best friend appeared at the bottom. We both knew to keep it down and we both understood the pause.
“Drop it down” she whispered up at me motioning to the schoolbag. I tried to whisper an explanation about how the bag contained several textbooks because I was packing for an indefinite amount of time but my friend wasn’t hearing it “Drop it” she insisted, but I knew she didn’t understand what I’d said or hear how close my step mother was behind me.
My step mother must have had heard something. She had come upstairs and was calling my name from the door to my room. “Drop it!” my friend said a little louder now which I was sure my step mother must have heard.
He keeps his grades high. But remembering things isn’t a problem for him and he’s a junior already on track for a decent start to life soon. I told him it’s time to chill out a little bit - enjoy the ride. True there’s a lot a stress these days. High School is crazy. This world is crazier. But never again is the absurdity of it all going to feel as pure. I spent my teen years mostly either confused or heartbroken - but I laughed hard, cried often, and lived deliberately. Sometimes I worry that in all his getting it right, he doesn’t.
I told him how I was sneaking out one night when I was his age - my parents were divorcing and my dad told me to go pack a bag for the week to stay at my friend’s house. There was an aluminum ladder that went up to the roof under my window. It was a fire escape according to my dad but it was really just another way out. I was almost finished when my step mother came home early. I had slinked out the window and was pondering the potential noise of the aluminum ladder when my best friend appeared at the bottom. We both knew to keep it down and we both understood the pause.
“Drop it down” she whispered up at me motioning to the schoolbag. I tried to whisper an explanation about how the bag contained several textbooks because I was packing for an indefinite amount of time but my friend wasn’t hearing it “Drop it” she insisted, but I knew she didn’t understand what I’d said or hear how close my step mother was behind me.
My step mother must have had heard something. She had come upstairs and was calling my name from the door to my room. “Drop it!” my friend said a little louder now which I was sure my step mother must have heard.
“Fine” I said, and I let go. Five 400 page textbooks padded by a favorite pair of stoned washed skinny jeans and some underwear crashed against the ladder vibrating the entire length of a story to my house. My step mother had busted into my room and was at my window calling my name out into her dark forcing me to quickly straddle a chimney and slip behind it on my neighbor’s roof out of sight. I don’t know where my friend went but at that moment I knew we were both laughing. It wasn’t easy stifling side-splitting laughter made funnier by the silence of the night, but it certainly made a lasting memory out of that moment.
It was a crazy time. That was the last of my step mother’s reign and the beginning of my adolescence. That roof was a place we’d know - her and I - where we’d stay up until the sun rose. It was where we’d smoked our first cigarettes, and sung harmonies to our favorite songs. I slipped down that ladder eventually and started learning who I was in the real world. I remember every moment (I think) from the excitement of being out to the shear bliss of those sleepovers in tiny twin beds or hidden sleeping bags wrapped in my best friend’s arms. I was a nightowl for the next decade doing sleepover after sleepover sometimes known to parents, but often not. My first girlfriend had me stuffed under a blanket between her bed and her closet while her mother stood in her doorway lecturing her all about me. I remember sliding out her window and hopping fences to go to another girl’s house that very same night. It was nuts being everyone’s secret, but it was fun and wild, deliberate and free. I was testing out my narrative - able to share to new ears who I was and what I’d been through. I was connecting with the world for the first time in years. I was choosing. I was present.
I wound up working my way through all my demons in those years. I got to the point where I felt I’d learned how to love, and what I was really up against, and it wasn’t me. Most kids this age only want to fit in. It takes a little something extra to feel comfortable standing out. But it was this time in my life I learned to shape life into what I really wanted. I was completely done with shaping myself into that world.
I know people who didn’t do that until they were middle aged. Shoot, I know people older than me that never have. I remember telling that to Amy - this wide eyed “friend” who was paying attention. She asked me what I would do if I could do anything. “I wanna jump out of a plane” I said. And we did.
It’s crazy to waste a moment of that pure and perfect rage. I told my son that I’ve seen things change that I never thought I could. The whole world is different, and there are no secrets anymore. It’s beautiful to see everyone come out and everyone have a community they can connect to. It’s astonishing to see the wisdom we spread in memes and the advice we can get from a computer at the drop of a hat. Milk no longer contains puss and everyone knows Monsano is the Devil. Yeah we have problems - because everyone needs attention, even straight white men. But soon, so much mundanity will be automated and work weeks will be shorter. Living stipends will free up energy pouring into necessity and creativity will be valuable again.
Could it go wrong? Sure - if that’s our focus. I told my son even though he doesn’t believe me. Life grows where attentions goes. I’ve seen it happen. I know it can. So I’m sure it will.
It was a crazy time. That was the last of my step mother’s reign and the beginning of my adolescence. That roof was a place we’d know - her and I - where we’d stay up until the sun rose. It was where we’d smoked our first cigarettes, and sung harmonies to our favorite songs. I slipped down that ladder eventually and started learning who I was in the real world. I remember every moment (I think) from the excitement of being out to the shear bliss of those sleepovers in tiny twin beds or hidden sleeping bags wrapped in my best friend’s arms. I was a nightowl for the next decade doing sleepover after sleepover sometimes known to parents, but often not. My first girlfriend had me stuffed under a blanket between her bed and her closet while her mother stood in her doorway lecturing her all about me. I remember sliding out her window and hopping fences to go to another girl’s house that very same night. It was nuts being everyone’s secret, but it was fun and wild, deliberate and free. I was testing out my narrative - able to share to new ears who I was and what I’d been through. I was connecting with the world for the first time in years. I was choosing. I was present.
I wound up working my way through all my demons in those years. I got to the point where I felt I’d learned how to love, and what I was really up against, and it wasn’t me. Most kids this age only want to fit in. It takes a little something extra to feel comfortable standing out. But it was this time in my life I learned to shape life into what I really wanted. I was completely done with shaping myself into that world.
I know people who didn’t do that until they were middle aged. Shoot, I know people older than me that never have. I remember telling that to Amy - this wide eyed “friend” who was paying attention. She asked me what I would do if I could do anything. “I wanna jump out of a plane” I said. And we did.
It’s crazy to waste a moment of that pure and perfect rage. I told my son that I’ve seen things change that I never thought I could. The whole world is different, and there are no secrets anymore. It’s beautiful to see everyone come out and everyone have a community they can connect to. It’s astonishing to see the wisdom we spread in memes and the advice we can get from a computer at the drop of a hat. Milk no longer contains puss and everyone knows Monsano is the Devil. Yeah we have problems - because everyone needs attention, even straight white men. But soon, so much mundanity will be automated and work weeks will be shorter. Living stipends will free up energy pouring into necessity and creativity will be valuable again.
Could it go wrong? Sure - if that’s our focus. I told my son even though he doesn’t believe me. Life grows where attentions goes. I’ve seen it happen. I know it can. So I’m sure it will.
Fitting in always felt wrong to me. Following the crowd was gross. I knew so many kids in school who were afraid to swim against the current. To me, it was exciting, novel, adventurous. You could see where everyone else was going, and I wanted to walk a different path. Wherever it led. It felt true.
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