I’m really fixated on the idea of growing up. And here I mean fixated with an incredibly negative connotation that basically means I quake with terror when contemplating what seems inevitable. Adulthood and maturity, to me, means having to curb my impulses and become less interesting. It means conforming to another person’s idea of who I am. And it worries me that more and more I’m starting to see things from an adult point of view. The things my parents said to me as a child, the reasons they gave, have slid alarmingly into focus.
One example is the existence of Sen’s puppy. He’s an adorable little creature, and I love having animals around and it pained me to not have access to any pets when I arrived here after having them abound back home. But puppies are made of poop. I spend entirely too much of my time recently cleaning up poop, and it’s just way too much work. This warm squishy little pile of love that is currently snoring on my lap is not really worth the effort required to clean up after him. So if I ever should reproduce, my children are screwed in the pet department. “Puppies are a lot of responsibility that you are incapable of handling, and I don’t want to clean up dog poop.” I think that’s a fairly standard parent response to children wanting puppies, and I now know why. Which isn’t to say that it’s news to me. I’ve known for a while that I am far too lazy for a puppy, but having had one inserted into my presence, I’m more solidly against ever having one of my own.
And there you have it. An adult perspective, acquired against my will. Which just further proves that maturity is inevitable, turning my insides to jello with fear.
But recently, my high school compatriot BJ has been visiting. And because she’s visiting, we’ve been making a greater effort to be active and do interesting things. Last night we went drinking at a pirate themed izakaya, where we were ensconced in an actual box with a faux sail draped across the entrance to give us privacy.
Afterwards, we spent two hours at the karaoke place next door, belting out 90s songs at the top of our lungs while I flailed and danced as a spinning disco ball lit the room. We arrived home as the night was fading into morning, the lights in our neighborhood flicking on as our neighbors woke for work.
Tonight, after dinner of amazingly complicated and delicious “American style” burgers at Non Cafe (the Japanese really do think that Americans eat burgers daily, and they think we eat triple deckers ones at that. My burger at Non Cafe involved an entire wheel of Camembert cheese and was so big that I actually had to eat it with a fork and a knife, a method that shames me to my soul) we headed to Coldstone, because clearly we hadn’t consumed enough yet. As we stood in line, BJ and I had a face off, where we started shoving each other and waggling our heads at one another and shouting threats. I can’t even remember why, but even Sen was embarrassed to be with us. Afterwards, I was served my ice cream first, so Sen decided to try to steal a bite while I was trying to pay, resulting in an epic battle and shouts of HADOKEN and SHORYUKEN as we battled over the fate of my ice cream. (I won.) The employees tried hard not to overtly laugh at us. As we were sitting, Mr. Roboto started playing, so we all naturally started dancing, and while I was distracted with my dance, BJ scooped up my ice cream and ran off. I shouted, “KAESE!” the imperative form of “return to me,” which is considered extremely rude and as close to cursing as you can get in Japanese, and ran after her. We ran straight past a mall security guard, who didn’t even blink, before I managed to get a hold of her hood and reclaim my ice cream, only to have it go flying out of my hands seconds later. Luckily, nothing was spilled, although a few miscellaneous drops managed to make their way onto my shirt.
When we got back to the Coldstone where we’d left Sen, she told us that the entire restaurant had turned and looked at her for explanation after we’d run off. The employees continued avoiding eye contact and trying their best not to laugh.
The entire episode reminded me so strongly of high school that my fear of encroaching maturation was momentarily dispelled. Of course, there will come a moment, I’m sure, where I do the responsible thing rather than running headlong in the wrong direction, but for now, I suppose it’s enough.
When in doubt... 