Escapism and Wisdom and Stuff

I had a very important talk with a very important person about Escapism and how it’s, kinda, always been my thing. Long story short/long, I was never the kind of kid who said – or complained – about being “Bored.” I’d know kids my age who’d whine about – I’m guessing – their lack of ideas on how to survive on their own and I’d think: QUICK! Get this kid some blank paper and some markers! Or? Give it (it, the kid) some string for it to weave into a bracelet, or small choker (depending on the length of the string.) Or? Get it a movie for it to memorize or a book on Paul Klee or the Soviet Union, or WHATEVER books you have lying around in your house.

I’ve managed to create ways to keep myself entertained for hours, years. Call it a childhood or whatever. On carrides, I’d ask to be excused from “here” because I’d have stuff I’d need to listen to and stuff I needed to imagine to go along with the songs on the radio. I’d call it, “Relaxing” because I decided that “Imagining” was too long of a word and wasn’t versatile enough to use in real-life conversations (in case anyone asked me why I was staring off into space.) And as dedicated I was to this little world I set up, I still needed lots of people to NOT think I was crazy. You know, Friends. Proof would be how I was never really insistent on how people should pronounce my name. I mean, unless they asked.

I dapple with real life every once in a while, but I dunno. All people do here is talk about their weekends, money, exercise, weightloss, how cute every single baby in the world is, and the words, “Awesome!” and “Amaaaaazing!” for things that’re only kinda alright. Frankly? Who cares about my weekend, really. And? All your lazy, mad-that-it’s-Monday talk makes me want to get a pen and draw a picture of a monster eating a human-head. Congratulations. Your personality’ll be wearing sweatpants ’til the day it dies. Wait, actually hold on. Lemme start over:

Thing is? I was never really good at Small Talk. I mostly excelled in No-Talk or *TALK-TALK,* and I’d spend my time avoiding everything in between by doodling and just observing people’s speaking patterns. But the thing about escapism, which I picked up on during this long conversation with this important person, is that it’s only *half*-wisdom. Real wisdom is being able to stay in the moment and make the best of whatever’s going on (which I always thought I *WAS* doing by making all those origami cranes and doodling in the margins of all those AP English packets.) Maybe I should say “Hey how ya doin!” once in a while and say “D’awwww!” whenever I see a picture of some random baby and *UNDERSTAND* why people watch the Superbowl for reasons other than the commercials. (Or… just say stuff.)

And I’ll totally keep you updated on what happens.

Real wisdom,


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