I Will Never Ever Ever Ever

Peter Pan, come take me away to Neverland, for I never want to grow up!

How dreary it must be to be adult. They sit still, they laugh quietly (if at all), the work all day and and only dream at night. Instead of being children, they have them and raise their own. I find it just ironic that parents scold their children for being children. Working carefully and relentlessly to drain their childish spirit away. With time they will succeed.

But not for me! For I shall never ever grow up.

I shall never be too old to fail to see the appeal of sprinkles or swing at the playground or blow bubbles or write bad poetry or use made up words or wear funny hats or stick out my tongue at people who annoy me!

I refuse to turn 18! (I conveniently canceled my birthday years ago!) I shall never be adult!

I will live at state of in between, of childish maturity. I will never, ever, ever grow up though.

Not all the way, any way.

Because what's the fun in that?

Being constantly responsible is downright reprehensible.

And never making jokes... I fear I'd go into withdrawal.

And never dreaming impossible dreams would shrink hope and make it fit into a box labeled "reality".

And how boring would that be?

How atrociously common, like an ugly little weed!

Youth is fond of dreaming, but age makes dreams so tired and so weak. So realistic.

Youth is ever resiliant, but age makes things more careful and more fragile. So jaded.

Youth. There is no fountain that contains it, not potion that procures it.

And so I will age.

That is the cruelty of time.

But I will not grow up.

You can't make me. =P

Arms

In my humble opinion, this song is worth a listen. I am a minor league Christina Perri fan (I love Jar of Hearts and I think she has a pretty cool voice.)

I don't know what it is about it. I can just relate to it. Maybe you can too.
You put your arms around me and I'm home.

Afraid

I truly am trying
To lift the weight in my chest
Throwing away the shackles.
Be patient,
I may yet decide to be free.
I really do want
To unfurl my fragile, unused wings,
Beat up to the sky
And fly
Away from this frame of mind.
And yet the fear
That I have worn as a blanket
And as a straight jacket,
Still holds me
In a death grip embrace.

Lip Smackers

I love Lip Smackers.

That could be strangly related to the fact that I am a girl and love lip balm/stick/gloss in generally, but really, what's not to love?

Lip Smackers. They're cute, colorful, fit in your pocket, feel fabulous, smell amazing and taste delicous.

What more could a girl (or her lips) ever ask for?

LOTS of lipsmackers, that's what.

Cotton Candy! Watermelon! Mango, Wild Rasberry! Oh the wonderful lips you can smack! (Or would it be smacks you can lip?)

And with a couple hundred flavors... there's quite a few to smack your lips to.

Obsession worthy? Yes.

Gold Stars

Why do I always seek your approval? As if I needed your words to make or break my efforts.

I already doubt myself enough. Do I really need to add your doubts on top of all that? Need... is that what it all comes down to? That needy desire to hear that you think I'm not just a pathetic waste of space, time and energy?

As if I will really believe whatever it is you say.

It's not really your words I want. No. How often are they an accurate representation of what you're really thinking? Not like I want to hear that either... that might be too honest, you know.

I can't stand the lies, but it's the truth I'm really afriad of.

So. That places you in the delicate position of being unable to say anything I want to hear. The lie will frustrate me and the truth I won't believe because I am already convinced it is a lie.

So why do I bother asking? Why do I study your face like a textbook, hunting for clues as to the thoughts that you held back from your words, turning this into some stupid game of Truth or Dare with my self-confidence hanging in the balance?

This isn't kindergarten. There are no more gold star stickers.

Rate the Stranger

There's this game I play, usually from the passenger seat of a parked car. It is a game to assuage boredom, encourage critical thinking skills and celebrate awesomeness in all its many forms.

This game is called Rate the Stranger.

Be forewarned, this game is addicting.

RULES OF PLAY

1. You must rate each stranger on a scale of 1-10, 1 "Decidedly Unawesome" and 10 "Epic Beyond All Reason".

2. Ratings are based on:
            A. A stranger's tasteful, colorful or create fashion choices
            B. A stranger's awesome, amusing or downright strange actions
            C. A stranger's positive attitude, vibe or aura.

3. Personal biases (such as a love of beards, cute boots and random dancing and/or a distaste for people who drop their cigarettes in the grass, scowl at you and yell at their kids) are totally allowed and strongly encouraged.

4. While this game is to celebrate the awesome and random stranger, it is also not intended to be a platform to demean those who may appear unappealing or utterly boring at a first glance. This game cannot judge the inside of a person, only the outside. If there is nothing positive you can find about a stranger, or a good reason to dislike them, it is often best not to rate them at all.

5. The glorious and special time may come when you see a stranger so awesome, the scale simply does not do them justice. In this event, you may declare them an 11.

6. The game may begin at any time and end at any time. Everyone in the vehicle, convoy or space ship is allowed to submit their rating. The group need not agree.

7. The players do not and cannot win the game. Epic strangers win the game.