Sometimes I wonder how parenting works. For instance, this all ties in with what I’ll say at their funeral. Does my father love playing piano? Is that his real passion, the thing he’d still do if my mom and I had never happened? He’s never said. He’s done it for his entire life. Maybe that’s saying enough? What was his dream? What was my mothers? She almost went to a magnet school for science before she became pregnant with me. Was it that? Was it building the beautiful home?
The reason I ask is because I want to know what they did that taught me to dream so much. To forget the stars and shoot for the next galaxy over. To never think anything was impossible. Was it their dreams or was it their lack of dreams?
You know, an argument could be made in favor of me being a bad person. People make that argument all the time. I don’t always make the right choices. And life isn’t a tv show. People don’t always give you the opportunity for you to show them the ways you’ve got their back. The lengths you’d go through. The little things you notice about them. I know I’m a good person. My parents taught me that. And I wish I knew how. I want to know so that I can teach other people that.
We all have “walls”. Defenses. And they make us do stupid things. Like run away, or tell people they never mattered when in fact they mattered a whole world-ton. But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what being an adult means. My life is getting really adult-like. I’m not upset about that. When you’re protecting your country, it’s kind of a given that you’d need to grow up, you have to stand up a little straighter. And when you’re having to fit your whole life into a set of suitcases for the next few years, you have to take a good hard look at what’s important and trim the fat. Had someone (person or nation) asked me to do this a year ago, I’d have scoffed, nervously laughed, and said “stop being gay, dude.” But I accept it now. I don’t know how or why. And I feel like there’s someone to thank for that but I can’t quite put my finger on it. All I know is that people are only impressed for a moment when you tell them you had an affair with a married man, or you used to work a ticket booth where you watched people watching music history, or you lived in california for a while. None of that changes who you are to them though. What does, is when you lead a really happy life. When you’re an example to people that were taught to have dreams. When you realize that dreams change and are able to let go of what isn’t relevant any more. (The jet set life is going to kill you.) That’s when you’re impressive.
I’m so used to saying I’m sad. It’s old hat-habit. But I’m not. And I just wanted to say that. And to Peter Pan: Don’t worry, I’ll never grow up. At least not in the way that’s so bad. I think it will always take a lot of youth to be happy.