child vs adult life of two

Keeping Up with Beliefs. Adult vs Inner Child.

People change with time. You know how they say “In every person there is a child who wanders what the fuck happened.”? Here is a list of 6 things that pretty much stayed the same for me throughout 20-25 years. Immaturity or keeping in touch with the inner child?

Why 25 years? Because 25 years ago I was 8, so yeah … a child. 

I wanted to travel the world.

Maybe it has something to do with upbringing, but I’ve always been the curious kind. How do other people live? What do they eat? What is considered normal for them? I always wondered. Naturally I wanted to travel as far as possible to see all that. I partially succeeded. 25 years after my first general wonders about the world, I still want to travel and discover. Nothing changed there.

I hated the combination skirt + stockings.

My mom wished for a “normal girl”. Yeah right! So much so that she introduced me at an early age to what she thought it was appropriate for a girl to wear. I had custom made dresses, which, in communist times, where scarce. You can easily imagine my mom’s look when she saw me walking on the street pulling up my stockings by lifting up the skirt. Yeah! Right there, in the middle of the street. Well, mom, that’s just how a former future aerospace engineer does it, ok?
Now? Still hate the damn stockings. Not so much the skirts, though. The only condition is that they are not tight, or excessively elegant. Let’s stick to the hippies, shall we? They freed the world from inhibitions…

I didn’t like to comb.

There was a time when I was a girl with long hair. My mom’s delight. I seem to be bringing her up a lot, cleary I have some issues. 🙂 She is a master coiffeur. Then there came a time when I was a teenager, rebelled against everything, including comb or hairbrush. Cuz…why not? So I stopped brushing my hair, thanks to Alanis Morissette’s look. She just made it all seem so easy and cool. In the end it turned out that the rebel phase was not a phase at all, and my hair looks ridiculous when untangled. I tried different hair styles. 2 hair unskilled stylists later, I got on the hands of a visionare. He cut my hair short that I could feel the breeze in the back of my head… I couldn’t stop laughing for 10 minutes. It was cool! It still is.
War with the comb continues today. Hair style is the choice of hazard.

I believed in the magic prince, who whisked me away, saving me from a cruel world.

Funny story, once, when I was about 17, while coming home carrying a big painting under my arm, a guy coming from the opposite direction smiled at me and walked by. After few seconds he came back and started questioning me about the package. After a quick chit-chat we parted ways and I never saw him again. For a long time I thought he was The One and started to build all kind of stories in my head. You see, this is how I thought one might meet their soulmate.
So I tried to find him or … something close to him. I tried and … failed. A lot. 15 years later I know that while it is important for a little bit of magic to exist, the soulmate thing means more than that. Laughter, saying ‘I am sorry’ when you screw up, teaming up for everyday stuff, building a future together … those are the new requirements. It still implies some sort of saving, finding a shelter, a support, but it goes both ways. So yeah, I still believe in the notion of a “prince”, but a more “have you bought toilet paper?” kind of approach.

I thought I was unique and special.

Teenagers oscillate between depression and egomania. I made no exception. Miss Unpopular in high school, who thought she was special and misunderstood, unique. Tell me if this sounds a little bit familiar. I remember a struggle and a promise to “show them what I am all about”.
Today I still think we are unique. Because, come on, look at your fingerprints and tell me how many more are like you. And I know it’s a cheap shot, but the way you think, the way you feel, the way you express yourself… they truly are one of a kind. But we are not special. “Special” is the kind of thing we have to actually earn. It’s not a given, it’s not genetics. We have all the tools to become special, but we are not BORN this way.

I thought friendship is for life.

Much hasn’t changed since I believed that as a kid. I still think friendship should be for life. Call me idealist. Unfortunately I have come to realize few things really are for life. Friendship perishes with time unless is being cultivated, taken care of.
I still have problems letting go and, some might say, I am a fool for that.That is good news, I think, means I am still naive enough, the world hasn’t ruined me for good with its skepticism.