You know what?
I find it worse than ironic that in our society's parlance, "adult" has grown (or rather, regressed and devolved) to mean "characterized by prurience." To mean "focused on or preoccupied with the sex act, with nudity, or with other frolicsome bodily matters," - not in the way of innocent curiosity or natural interest that you'd expect! But in the stunted, giggling way that calls things naughty, dirty - that tut-tuts and chides even as it hides, denies. That's just what "adult" means!
The very word "adult" now marks the sort of naive, embarrassed attitude you'd expect from either a precocious juvenile, or a socially or emotionally retarded adolescent.
"Retarded," there, gives the plain sense of delayed, hampered. A slower-than-usual development. There is no shame, or there should be none, in that. Kids grow at all rates - and actual innocence is a thing we should protect.
But what gets me, please, is that "adult" seems to mean something that grown-ups ourselves are expected never, ever to grow up about. Adult matters are - matters of permanent shame, discomfort - for us! For a grownup!
And that's what they call "adult." That's adult. What a comedown. This, my fellow adults, is a ripoff.
When I was a child, I thought "adult" meant that at some point, you stop being a child. At some point, you become one of those full-fledged full-on human beings first class - you get your wings, as it were, and become privileged to know (that is, to come to terms with) all those things that confused teachers and other figures would fluster over, and tell me "oh, you - you don't, I can't tell you now. You'll know when you're older!" And I figured the real "big deal" stuff, the stuff you'd get full grasp of in that grown-up club, would be - you know, the politics. The whys of war, and division of hate over systems of thought. The whys of enemyship - the things I could readily believe a child might not be equipped to understand! Because I didn't.
Come to find out, hah hah, no. The REAL big adult issues are wee wees, wangs, vajoos - heinies, boobies, stuff like that. Big girls and boys with their clothes off! That's the adult concern. That is what grown-ups, apparently, STILL find shameworthy, cause for an angry scold or a big, shamed-red face. Can you imagine??
Can you imaging growing up, and finding out THIS is what the grown-ups mean by "adult"? Bare behinds and reet-roo! Oopsie nudey nudey bits!
I'll try a comparison: imagine if you grew up and people were still mortified by poopydoos, peeps and farts! Can you imagine being called a "grown up," and being ashamed of THAT? Can you imagine trying to manage your own shame at being oh-the-humanity: a body! With form. And functions. Imagine calling yourself an adult, and then turning around and trying to manage that shame using shush shush, tut tut and stinkeye to other grown-ups. And if they have the gall to be confused at your shame, to call anybody else - childish.
If that were how you rolled, as a so-called adult...be ashamed. Be very ashamed. Grow up. My inner ten year old is appalled at you. And so am I. So let down.
Oh at first, when that boy I was turned twelve or so, and first grasped that people had turned to using "adult" as a prude-word for "sex-crazed," I tried to put the best face on it. I explained to myself, "they mean that the material is for adults. That most kids can't, but adults are the ones mature enough to take these matters at face value!"
Imagine that. Call me naive if you must.
Despite the constant evidence around me of self-stunted, gracelessly aging emotional juveniles - who make far more than their share of scenes, and by doing so, probably end up seeming far more numerous than they really are - I believe the majority of adults actually do grow up. At some point. They're probably just too tactful to scold the others who bristle, titter, blush and fluster at woo woos.
"Maybe they'll know when they're even older," they guess, keeping wisely silent.
I find it worse than ironic that in our society's parlance, "adult" has grown (or rather, regressed and devolved) to mean "characterized by prurience." To mean "focused on or preoccupied with the sex act, with nudity, or with other frolicsome bodily matters," - not in the way of innocent curiosity or natural interest that you'd expect! But in the stunted, giggling way that calls things naughty, dirty - that tut-tuts and chides even as it hides, denies. That's just what "adult" means!
The very word "adult" now marks the sort of naive, embarrassed attitude you'd expect from either a precocious juvenile, or a socially or emotionally retarded adolescent.
"Retarded," there, gives the plain sense of delayed, hampered. A slower-than-usual development. There is no shame, or there should be none, in that. Kids grow at all rates - and actual innocence is a thing we should protect.
But what gets me, please, is that "adult" seems to mean something that grown-ups ourselves are expected never, ever to grow up about. Adult matters are - matters of permanent shame, discomfort - for us! For a grownup!
And that's what they call "adult." That's adult. What a comedown. This, my fellow adults, is a ripoff.
When I was a child, I thought "adult" meant that at some point, you stop being a child. At some point, you become one of those full-fledged full-on human beings first class - you get your wings, as it were, and become privileged to know (that is, to come to terms with) all those things that confused teachers and other figures would fluster over, and tell me "oh, you - you don't, I can't tell you now. You'll know when you're older!" And I figured the real "big deal" stuff, the stuff you'd get full grasp of in that grown-up club, would be - you know, the politics. The whys of war, and division of hate over systems of thought. The whys of enemyship - the things I could readily believe a child might not be equipped to understand! Because I didn't.
Come to find out, hah hah, no. The REAL big adult issues are wee wees, wangs, vajoos - heinies, boobies, stuff like that. Big girls and boys with their clothes off! That's the adult concern. That is what grown-ups, apparently, STILL find shameworthy, cause for an angry scold or a big, shamed-red face. Can you imagine??
Can you imaging growing up, and finding out THIS is what the grown-ups mean by "adult"? Bare behinds and reet-roo! Oopsie nudey nudey bits!
I'll try a comparison: imagine if you grew up and people were still mortified by poopydoos, peeps and farts! Can you imagine being called a "grown up," and being ashamed of THAT? Can you imagine trying to manage your own shame at being oh-the-humanity: a body! With form. And functions. Imagine calling yourself an adult, and then turning around and trying to manage that shame using shush shush, tut tut and stinkeye to other grown-ups. And if they have the gall to be confused at your shame, to call anybody else - childish.
If that were how you rolled, as a so-called adult...be ashamed. Be very ashamed. Grow up. My inner ten year old is appalled at you. And so am I. So let down.
Oh at first, when that boy I was turned twelve or so, and first grasped that people had turned to using "adult" as a prude-word for "sex-crazed," I tried to put the best face on it. I explained to myself, "they mean that the material is for adults. That most kids can't, but adults are the ones mature enough to take these matters at face value!"
Imagine that. Call me naive if you must.
Despite the constant evidence around me of self-stunted, gracelessly aging emotional juveniles - who make far more than their share of scenes, and by doing so, probably end up seeming far more numerous than they really are - I believe the majority of adults actually do grow up. At some point. They're probably just too tactful to scold the others who bristle, titter, blush and fluster at woo woos.
"Maybe they'll know when they're even older," they guess, keeping wisely silent.
Comments
Damn these juveniles need to grow up. For their own fun and own sake! You get way more fun that way. I mean am I right? You and me, Mel, we did some whimsical shit in Frisco, didn't we? All grown up stuff, doesn't put the first crimp in joy and wonder, in fact, it frees you to it! Being an adult is the deal. These dipshits should try it sometime, but I know I don't need to convince you, Miss Dodgy. Pardon the rant.
"not supposed to," phoo. There's no power on earth who gets to supposed what WE do, Mel.
GROW UP, people!! It's great! You can eat spaghetti every day.
Or in Mel's case, pad thai.