What am I?
So, what do we have? Lego playing and collecting, erector set wishing for, “young adult” book reading (and to heck with the so-called adult stuff—weepies, how-tos, confessionals by politicians, etc.), cat loving, dog liking (as long as they’re away from cats!), sexually disinterested, talks to herself lots (and answers herself) and has most of her life, someone who wants to run and play, to study, to explore, wants no part of the adult stuff of living alone, working a boring job, buying groceries and other things, and having to pay bills. An allowance would be okay, if I don’t need a paycheck. Enough to buy a CD a month, maybe a toy or a cat toy or a book, subscribe to a magazine. I wouldn’t mind being watched over, someone else cosigning (as parent or guardian) a membership or subscription.
What am I?
A geekazoid who should get slapped upside the head until I straighten out? A disturbed person in need of counseling? A normal female who’s overly sensitive and over-reacting? I say ‘no’ to this one; whatever I am, I’m not normal. Or, as I believe, someone who is chronologically and biologically an adult but who emotionally and mentally is still a child? Developmentally stunted, if you like, if I can say that without saying that I need institutionalizing. I can express myself in writing because I’ve had a lifetime of practice, but that’s just practice, not being an adult.
What am I?
Someone once said that the wonders of the universe are best viewed through the eyes of a child. I think about it when I read and then later reread a textbook to learn and then relearn things about something I’m curious about it. I think about it when I figure out a math problem and I laugh at the joy of solving what were puzzles. I think about it when I look at a ladder or tunnel or path and I fight the itch to explore. I think of it when I wrestle kitties or talk to birds with them from windowsills, when I jump over sidewalk cracks or step onto rocks while crossing a mountain stream, when I talk to myself… and get answers. I think of it when I play zappage or catch-up-to-me with the train, when I build Lego models or play games, when I wander the toy section of a store or the kids section of a library or book store, when I gaze up at the stars and wonder if anyone’s looking back, or when I watch the planes flying by on their way to the airport and wonder where they’ve been.
I think about it… and I smile.