Adulting: The Worst Decision I Never Made

After ten years of practicing photography, I feel confident in my ability to take good pictures.  After thirteen years of babysitting, I feel confident in my ability to work well with children.  After only one year of blogging, I feel confident in my ability to express my feelings through written word.  But after nine years of being an adult, I am becoming less and less confident in my ability to survive.
Many questions come to mind:

• Why can't I work my dream job without going to college?

• Why are other adults so weird?

And, most puzzling of all:

• Who was the genius who invented money?

Needless to say, I have been struggling at 'adulting' lately.  I want to get my own place, I want to finish school, I want to jump straight into my dream job.  What's holding me back?  Money!
In order to get an apartment, I would need to get a third job.  To continue my education, I would need to get a fourth job.  And a fifth job.  By then, I won't even have time for school.  So maybe I should just quit my jobs (note to boss:  I'm not quitting any time soon!  Don't panic!) and take out a loan...or seven.  That way, I can finish school, get my dream job, and spend the rest of my life earning money to give back to the bank.  This is the American dream, people!
And don't get me started on the privileges of being an adult.  As a child, I longed for the day when I could finally eat a bowl of ice cream without someone telling me I couldn't.  Now that I can, I find that I shouldn't.  I've got to stay healthy.  My quick metabolism is quickly slowing down.  All that ice cream just sits in my gut.  Most men have a beer belly.  I have a mint chocolate chip belly.
Now, back to school.  I hated high school with a passion.  I couldn't wait to get out of there.  Now, I wish I were back, not in high school, per se, but back to going to school for free.  Back to the teachers handing out free copies of the textbooks.  Back to $2 cardboard pizzas instead of $15 salads.  Ok, scratch that.  Maybe I don't miss the food so much.  But you get my point.  I miss the days when things were handed to me on a cheap green, plastic tray rather than having to pay for my silver platter.
The worst thing about an adult, though, is that I had no choice.  Adulthood was thrust upon me.  High school graduation, which should be one of my proudest memories, is now one of my greatest regrets.  I didn't choose the adult life.  The adult life chose me.  And it chose poorly.

It Just Makes Me So Angry!

I have been blessed with a great deal of patience (and humility).  I don't get angry very often.  In fact, the 11-year old once told me that I don't get angry, just frustrated.
Can you keep a secret?  I do get angry.
I get angry when people don't use turn signals.  So I made a game out of it the other day.  A guy in the next lane over obviously wanted to move over to my lane.  He stuck his nose in front of me, but I carefully scooted forward so he couldn't get in.  He backed out.  A couple seconds later, he tried again.  Again, I didn't let him in.  Finally, the turn signal came on.  I slowed down and let the guy move over.
I get angry when adults act like children.  So I quit my job at a restaurant and got a job with people who are supposed to act like children:  children.
I get angry when I see people (children and adults) disrespecting their parents.  So I give my parents hugs and tell them how much I love them.
I get angry when the IRS says I owe them money.  So I write them a check.  Wait...
The point I'm trying to make is that I try to find a positive way to release my anger.  Sure, I'm probably not releasing as much anger that way, but I don't keep it bottled up inside.  God gave us dance music with a lot of bass for a reason!  Rocking out in my car to Zedd and Martin Garrix certainly helps me unleash my anger.
So the next time you're at Walmart walking behind that old lady who takes two steps a minute, don't just quickly brush by her in a minor fit of anger.  Ask her if she needs assistance.  Start a conversation with her.  Make her day brighter.  It'll make your day brighter too.

Ms. Earley's 3rd Grade Class

In January of the year 2000, my whole life changed for the better.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, I was diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder at a young age.  Because of my anxiety, especially my selective mutism, my mom decided it was best for me to be home schooled.  From Kindergarten through 2nd grade, I had the same teacher:  Mrs. Mom (I didn't call her that by the way.  It was just 'mom'.).  Halfway through my 3rd grade year, after being successfully prescribed with medications and treatments, I asked my mom if I could go to public school.  She felt that I was ready.
In the first month of the Millenium, I was enrolled in Harman Elementary and assigned to Ms. Earley's class.  Now imagine, a kid who is terrified of people and doesn't even speak to kids his own age, going to public school.  What had I gotten myself into?!
Fortunately for me, Ms. Earley was the perfect teacher for me at that time in my life.  She was kind and didn't give me funny looks like some adults did when they thought I wasn't looking.  She treated me like she treated her other students:  with love and care.  But not everyone in the classroom was so warm at first.  I got a lot of dirty looks from the girls, and the boys didn't know what to do with me.  But one girl, Jenny, decided to take me under her wing.  And, by some miracle, I was perfectly comfortable with talking to her.  In fact, she became my spokeswomen...er...-girl.  I would whisper things into her ear, and she would repeat what I said.  Ms. Earley even put our desks together so I would feel comfortable answering questions in class, always through Jenny.
As the school year progressed, I became more and more comfortable with my class mates and made plenty of friends, all of whom I was comfortable speaking with.  But, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to Ms. Earley.
I don't remember when it was.  It was probably towards the end of the year.  One day during reading time, I had to use the restroom.  I rose my hand, using the sign for the letter "T" as was required at Harmans.  Ms. Earley didn't see me.  She, too, was reading.  So, after weighing my options, I stood up, walked over to Ms. Earley's desk and asked "May I use the bathroom?"  And you know what she said?  Without looking up from her book (must have been a good one!) she asked "Boy or girl?".  I said that I was a boy.  She looked up from her book, saw who had spoken, and I swear her eyes teared up a little.  She calmly handed me the boy's bathroom pass, as if nothing momentous had occurred.  That is the moment that changed my life.  Instead of excitedly exclaiming "Yes!  You may have the bathroom pass!  You may have all the bathroom passes!", she stayed calm and treated me like a regular student.  Doesn't sound like that big of a deal.  But for me, a child who was used to getting lectured for being impolite for not speaking, a child who was used to being treated delicately, like a China doll, was finally treated like everyone else.
The next day, however, Ms. Earley had added something new to my desk.  A Root Beer scented scratch-and-sniff sticker.  She told me that for everytime I spoke to her, I would get another sticker.  I didn't mind.  Who complains about stickers?  That smell like Root Beer?!  My desk was filled with stickers by the beginning of June.
So at this time in my life, I would just like to thank Ms. Earley and those students in her class.  My life was forever changed.  I saw the beauty and kindness that humanity has to offer.  Because of Ms. Earley's 3rd grade class, I became a changed man...er...boy.


p.s.  Because I started 3rd grade in January, I missed picture day.  So I cheated!  The above picture is actually from Mrs. Resnick's 4th grade class.  But that's another story.

No Tech Day

Last Friday, the boys and I had a No Tech Day.  After struggling to get the teenager out of bed ("What's the point?  I might as well sleep all day.") and listening to the younger boys complain about being bored (after a grueling four minutes), it was time to step up my game.
First came Twister.  The spinner got broken, so that didn't last very long.  Next came wrestling.  That's always fun.  Until it goes too far.  So, it was time to build a fort.
We gathered the chairs from the dining room and made a square.  I had a top sheet ready, but the boys insisted on using every blanket in the house.  The fort we built was huge!  Once the fort was finished we played a game the boys called "Slenderman".  They had thirty seconds to get from the fort to a hiding place.  I then had about two minutes to find them before they got back to the fort.  We had a blast!  Until one of the dogs jumped on top of the fort.  No worries there, though.  The boys fixed it up and made it even stronger than before.
Lunchtime came along while the boys were playing Bop-it or building with Jenga blocks.  We had had such a good day by that point that I decided we could watch one movie, taking a break from the No Tech Day.  After two hours of Jim Carrey fighting thugs while wearing a green mask, we continued our No Tech Day.  Back to Bop-it and Jenga.
After a while, the 11-year old brought out his electric ball.  You know what I'm talking about.  One of those globes that has electricity running through it.  When you put a finger on it, the electricity follows your finger.  He set it up in the middle of the fort.  We spent a good hour and a half in the fort shocking each other.  The boys would put one hand on the globe and use the other hand to go up and down my forearm.  At one point, one the boys asked what was burning.  It was my arm hair.  It smelled awful, but the boys thought it was the coolest thing.  It was actually fairly hot.  Not cool at all.  But, again, we had a blast.
My boss, who I just call 'mom', got home while we were working on MadLibs. The boys started complaining to her about the long, boring, torturous day I had put them through.  But I know better.  They may not realize it, but they enjoyed themselves.  We had rough patches throughout the day, such as calling each other names and hitting each other, but I also saw the boys bonding, which doesn't seem to happen much when I'm around.  They told each other jokes, talked about their trip to the beach they had recently returned from.  They even discussed politics!  Imagine that!  A 13- and 11-year old discussing the state of the Union.  I thoroughly enjoyed my tech free day with these fine young men.  I'm kind of tempted to do it again.  Heaven help those boys!