Inner Children

What the hell happened to our inner child? And when I say our I guess I’m speaking of all the young adults out there who are officially adults due to the fact they can buy beer, porn, and cigarettes, but don’t really feel the part. I mean lets face it, life used to be so simple and awesome back in the day. You had a full time nanny/maid (mom), all the financial support you ever needed (dad), and a friend who supported you 100% despite all the flaws you might have had (Barney the purple dinosaur). School was actually fun, drugs were still bad, and the opposite sex was infected with a terrible disease that put AIDS and herpes to shame – cooties. Life was all play and no work. Life was good . . .

Now that I’ve reached adulthood all of that childish wonderment I had about the world has changed. I’m my own nanny, maid, and financial supporter. My closest friends are not creepy overly supportive dinosaurs who constantly sing to me that they love me and that we’re part of some magical happy family with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you . . . . They’re guys who will maliciously attack my flaws and tear me down whenever possible. What’s worse, is that after all those D.A.R.E. classes instead of saying no, I just said yes to alcohol and tobacco. In fact, I could sure go for some cigarette flavored vodka right about now. Yeah, that would be nice. But I digress . . .

Where was I again? Oh yeah. I work too much and play too little and I want to have sex with all the women I see. Okay, that’s a bit of an overstatement. Actually that’s a huge overstatement because I totally wouldn’t do Barbara Streisand or that weird looking lady on the news. But anyway, my point is that I no longer fear the cooties. I desire them.

So, I guess this all begs the question, as Adam Sandler put so well in the title of his classic comedy album: What the hell happened to me? I mean seriously. I used to want to be a zoo keeper when I grew up and now I have a job that involves killing people and no, I am not an abortion doctor (too soon?)! To complicate things even more, there is so much I want to get out of life now that I’m an “adult;” I want to be satisfied with myself; I want to find and embrace my purpose in life; I want to experience love and enjoy the fruits of companionship but still be able to do so without compromising who I am; And most of all, I want Rock band 2 with all the downloadable songs and a bitchin’ entertainment system to play it on. That shit is way too expensive for a kid to buy.

I guess these things complicate matters because they suppress the inner child. A child doesn’t want these things because I child can’t comprehend them and with the way public education is going these days, kids can barely comprehend basic multiplication tables. There’s even a study that shows some kids out there think we fought against the Russians and were allied with the Germans during WWII when everyone knows we teamed up with the Rebel Alliance to defeat the Galactic Empire during that war. But there I go digressing again . . .

Despite being adults, it’s easier to yearn for the days of our childhood because we knew exactly what we wanted. There was no rat race to run. No loneliness to battle. Even if our dreams of being a zoo keeper or a candy man were far fetched, we still knew what we wanted to be. There was beauty in simplicity and as a result, today we look to our inner child to return us to those simpler times.

Come to think of it though, is searching for that inner child really the right answer? I know I’m going back on myself after saying what the hell happened to our inner child but is it really what’s best for us? I talk about simplicity but let’s face it, simple is boring. Simple isn’t challenging. Easy on Rock Band is a drag on any instrument except drums, because I suck at the drums. You need to move up to the next level because when you finally face the complexity of life, you find it to be so much more beautiful and rewarding. The detail, intricacies, and complexities found in the works of the great artists like Michelangelo, Van Gogh, and El Greco are so much more pleasing to the human spirit than that dumb shit hungry caterpillar Eric Carle drew up. The elaborate trials and tribulations of adulthood teach us lessons about ourselves, about life. And these lessons are what really separate us from that inner child because we become aware of the unlimited possibilities life has to offer.

Yeah, all the unknown and random things out there can be kind of scary but that’s part of the great adventure of life. Kids love adventures and so should adults. So, as opposed to having your inner child keep you in a mental state of Scooby Doo underwear, tell that little shit to grow the fuck up and face what’s out there. Your inner child doesn’t have to die completely; however, they shouldn’t keep you from facing all that life has to offer. Use the spirit of your inner child to take a chance or do something random but have the maturity to learn and grow from it.

Now that I’m off my soap box of awesome, I have this final message of hope and encouragement. Whether you’re a man-boy (guilty), a wannabe princess, or still a huge fan of SpongeBob SquarePants (guilty), never fear. We’re going to make it through this. Seriously, we have no choice. I’m pretty sure being a child forever involves some sort of tax evasion and eventually the Feds are going to find your ass. Don’t do it. Keep that inner child alive but don’t let it consume you. If you do, you’ll just end up like Michael Jackson and he sleeps with little boys. That shit is wrong. Way wrong. Don’t be wrong.