When I grow up...

I’ve been feeling a little uninspired with work lately. It seems to go in these 6 – 8 month cycles where I go from disinterested and unmotivated to mildly interested and slightly more motivated.

My latest low came the other day while I was sitting in a rather ornate conference hall in a swanky downtown hotel listening (and I use that term loosely) to the finer details of real estate law.

I was trying to imagine under what circumstances this could possibly be considered interesting? I came to the conclusion that unless Batman and Jesus were having a light saber duel on the stage there’s just no way any sane person could have enjoyed it.

Editors note: I like Batman’s chances in that fight.

And yet from the first day I joined the working world I have been sitting in meetings and conferences just like this one, drifting in and out of consciousness. I show up with the best of intentions – I try so hard to pay attention – but the topics are usually so painfully boring that within minutes my brain is asking questions like – "How much pen ink could I drink before I got sick" and "how much would my life really change if I had a prehensile tail and wings?"

But such is the life of an adult it would seem. We all sit around these tables pretending like we care and acting as though we’re really very interested in what the other people are saying when in reality all we can think about is “has anyone noticed that I have no idea what’s going on here?”

Years ago I imagined there would be a day when a switch would go off and I would suddenly care – as if I found out that all this time I was actually a robot (*cough – cylon*) and not a human. I imagined that one day I would wake as an adult.

So far this hasn't happened and God willing it never will.

It’s safe to say I don’t “act” like and adult. I mean, at 31 – as my soon-to-be-wife will attest to – I still think the word poo is hilarious. I still think ninja stars are awesome, I play video games a fair bit and if there’s something more fun than a bouncy-castle, I don’t want to know about it.

I still party with the same group of friends, and we still make the same jokes (usually at Rob’s expense) and it’s still as much fun now as it was then.

That’s another thing, I don’t know anyone who “acts” like an adult, and frankly why would you want to. The stigma of being a grown up is something that no one truly looks forward to. It’s like some kind of untreatable disease that upon the mere mention makes peoples’ faces recoil in horror. “An adult? Damn-it, he was so young.”

So if we’re all just pretending to be grown ups and going through the motions, then why pretend any longer? Just about every male (and some females) I know plays video games on a regular basis but that doesn’t make them juvenile – maybe a little anti-social – but surely not juvenile. I’m also convinced the friends I know who have kids, had them so they could start to play with toys again.

Clearly none of use us wants to act like grown ups, so then why do we all feel so guilty about acting like kids? The only difference between me as a kid and me now, is that now I have the money to buy the toys I want. And mom – I hate to say this – but yes, sometimes I have ice cream for dinner – simply because I can.