That's not your fault; that's just your turn.

[judecorp]

I just finished watching Lost and Delirious. It was really good. The best way for me to describe it is to say that it is, in a lot of ways, the female equivalent of Dead Poets Society.

I can't believe it hasn't even been ten years and I'm already so completely removed from the powerful passion of my teenage years. I watched the torrent of emotions flood through the characters in Lost and Delirious and wondered idly where that hydropower of youth goes when you become a twentysomething. I've been thinking a lot about my adolescence lately or, more to the point, my distance from it.

Whenever I talk with Emmy I am stunned at how quickly I remember the way that I felt when I was her age, the emotions that coursed through me like fire in high school. I was so sure that everything I felt was truth and certainty. I was so sure that every dream I had could become a reality. I was positive that I would never be as real as I was right then.

I was so right.

Something happens when you "grow up" and leave the freedoms of blissful experimentation. Somewhere in the quagmire of adolescence and early adulthood we feel that it is necessary to dull our emotions, and we strive to do so. We call ourselves mature, enlightened, content. Are we? Have we merely settled? Did we give up when we told ourselves that every event wasn't life-shattering, that every emotion could move a mountain?

When I was in high school, I was so full of raw angst and pain, and there is nothing in the universe that would make me want to feel that anguish again. At the same time, though, there is no comparison, even now, to the amount of pure, unadulterated idealism that I exuded at sixteen. I believed that every cause worth fighting for could be won. I believed that everything I felt strongly about was right. I believed that anything at all was possible with hard work.

There is still a great deal of idealism in me, perhaps moreso than most people my age, many of whom have fallen prey to the world of business and industry, to the almighty dollar, slaves of the timeclock. I am an idealist, yet I am a far cry from my youthful exuberance. I doubt my abilities to save the world, I am unsure about love and passion being enough, I worry that I am not always right even when I feel such a strong resolve.

Do you have to have the intense agony of defeat in adolescence in order to survive the mundane-ness of adulthood? Or does the agony of unbridled passion, unrestrained emotion, dull us into becoming twentysomething automatons?

Something to think about, I suppose. When my head's no longer pounding, that is.

Comments

[photodork.livejournal.com]

toooooo... many.... big.. words....

[photodork.livejournal.com]

umm.. ignore him.. he's not his usual oxford's english self.

[mrmoe.livejournal.com]

I realized today that I turn 29 in two months. And that the year I spend from October 21, 2002 to October 20, 2003 is going to be the last year of my twenties, the last year where I'm only a decade away from when I was a teen, and the last year I can even still be called 'young' by old people. (I really do think it's a rule that they have to stop calling you 'sonny' when you turn 30. It's probably written somewhere.)
And so reading your post was not only a humourous coincidence, but cathartic as well. It gave me the comfort to know that I am not the only person in the world who remembers with more than just fond nostalgia the feeling of ethical immortality that was the guiding light of my latter teen years. That feeling of embracing my alternative spirituality, trying to encompass within my beliefs the radical opposites of a world which kills and conspires against its inhabitants versus a world within which we are all a part, and all aspects of our life's energies resonated in echo of.
I remember crying when Tibetan monks came and performed at my college, and then I got to spend all the next day, a Saturday, in deep theological/spiritual discussion with them, because they stayed and talked to the Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship I was in. I remember lying on the roof of the house I was living in, and having the most incredible conversation about Western views on starvation and underprivilege.
The thing is, I only remember these things. They aren't part of my life anymore. If asked to go up on my roof and have a conversation about something geo-political and philosophical, my first reaction would probably be: Hey, that's dangerous. Besides, it's too hard to climb up there.
Though, I think that there will always be people in your life that inspire that youthful vigour and utter idealism in you. I know there are some few left in mine.
As for love and passion?
They can move mountains. They can make the sky seem more blue. They can make you cry from happiness, and cry from sadness. They can bring every emotion known to our species with them, and have them all pass through your mind and soul in the space of a heartbeat. I don't know if they're enough for what you're wanting to use them for, but they are some of the most powerful, most worthwhile things we can have. If you have them, cherish them my friend. You deserve them.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

I, too, would sit on rooftops at night under a cover of stars and engage in thrilling and deep philosophical conversations, sometimes with the help of alcohol (but not always). I always felt so damned connected - to other people, to the universe, to my thoughts - and I wonder sometimes where that connection went to even though I am more social, more sure of myself than ever before. Irony, it is.

At the same time, I've been in diners/restaurants/other places and have caught wind of various and sundry adolescents engaging in philosophical banter, and most of the time it makes me laugh. "Do they think they are so fucking /deep/?" I wonder in my head with cynical amusement as they blather on about ideals that have no limits and no consequences.

I think it's a necessary evil, in a lot of ways. Opening one's eyes in adulthood often means not losing sight of one's ideals, but seeing beyond them - seeing that not everything is black and white, good and bad, right and wrong, fair or unfair. I guess at some point I learned that while all people are interconnected spiritually, we're also interconnected politically, and that there are so many social systems in place, both necessary and horrible, and that these interplay with everything else and make such ideal movements much more challenging.

Oh, to have the energy I had then with the knowledge I have now. Maybe that's why adults put so much pressure on teenagers - because we remember the passion, the energy, the power, and we also know that there is so much more than that in the world. Still, I think that's why I like working with adolescents so much (even though I've moved on to adults now) - to get a contact high off that power.

[prettyvacantone.livejournal.com]

You know, I'm still in my teens (coming up on 19), but I already am starting to feel the distance between myself and the passionate, enraged high school me. God, I used to write and write and write...and think that every idea I came up with was the most beautiful, or painful thing ever to grace a page. I'm fairly happy now, but I really miss that passion, even if it was painful a lot of the time.
It's kinda funny, because I've been watching this special on TLC called Teen Species, that talks about all the hormonal rage that happens in our bodies, and the rewiring of the brain that happens during the adolescent years. Somehow, it seems so cold to blame all of those powerful emotions just on that though.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

Somehow, it seems so cold to blame all of those powerful emotions just on that though.

I agree with you, in much similar a way as my feeling that it seems cold to base love entirely on biology as well.

I remember thinking, in high school, that there wasn't a single person in the world that understood me - that I was so complex and so different that I would be destined to pen words that no one would quite "get." I think, too, that I was specifically vague to keep this charade.

It's funny, now, that I've learned that yes, there isn't a single person quite like me, but that people can understand each other if we would just take the time to explain ourselves and not hide behind our precious perceived enigmas. I think some of my distance from my teen years comes from distancing myself from that horrible, counter-productive angst. There's only so long one can hold on to hurt, pain, and victimization, though I think it's a necessary part of growing up. Trying to find one's identity hurts. Learning how to love people (and not love people) hurts. Leaving what is safe hurts.

I know people who have never left the town (or even the house) that they grew up in, and that scares me, because a lot of those people still have that angst, that pain, that need to be a riddle - and I wish I could help them understand that there is so much more than that.

p.s. I think you're a pretty amazing person, Ms. Naked.

[imagine77.livejournal.com]

I too used to write and write and write.
I never had to try it poured out of me. I often find myself mouring that part of me that seems to have died at some point.
Its painful and horrible when i try to force words onto a page.
I never thought anything I wrote was the be all and end all.
But it was.
That was enough.
Back then I would have called it all kind of silly.
Now I am lost without it.
I always expected i would grow up and apart from my friends.
I never expected to grow away from myself.
Ironically I am closer to them now than I am to me alot of the time.
I shall stop rambling now.

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

Do you have to have the intense agony of defeat in adolescence in order to survive the mundane-ness of adulthood? Or does the agony of unbridled passion, unrestrained emotion, dull us into becoming twentysomething automatons?

I dunno. When does childhood end and adulthood start?

I never went through my angst-y rebellious phase until my early-to-mid-twenties, and I still haven't quite recovered from all the consequences of it (most of which have to do with replaying old memories that I wish would go away). It was short-lived, but nonetheless miserable and undesirable. I wish I didn't have to do that.

I'll be turning thirty in two months. Looking back, I'd have to say that I was much more mature, confident, and sure of myself when I was 19 than I am today. I'm not sure what that means. Maybe I was a grown-up then, and now I'm a child, thinking and doing childish things.

On the other hand, I'm not even sure that concept bothers me, really.

I think in general I'd have to agree with you that the agony of senseless, meaningless defeat definitely desensitizes us emotionally. There are days when I'm so apathetic that I don't even care if I become more apathetic. (Smells like Nirvana?)

But...are we all so withdrawn because adulthood is mundane, or...is adulthood mundane because we've forgotten how to be innocent and idealistic, how to live and love and laugh and learn, how to play.

The idealist in me wants to think it's the latter. Adulthood isn't mundane by NATURE; it's mundane because we think it is.

We need to unthink for a while.

Let's do something childish.

[Corollary discussion: in the Victorian era, children were seen as little adults and were expected to act the part, being polite, quiet, mature, and well-mannered. Twentieth-century psychology then flipped that around and started treating adults as grown-up children, trying to resolve longstanding hurts. Which is it? Frankly, I think we're all really just children and we fool ourselves into thinking we've grown up.]

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

I think you're right in that we have lost some of the innocence of childhood, but I think that starts in adolescence when we pressure ourselves into "growing up." Sure, our parents want us to have more responsibilities, and the schools expect more from us, but it is often ourselves as teenagers who really try to age us before our time.

When I was 16 I wanted to be 21. When I was 25 I wanted to be 21. Interesting.

As to your corollary discussion:

The idea of children as mini-adults really started to change and be destroyed when there was an influx of developmental psychologists and other scholars who proved (through tasks, experimentation, etc.) that children of varying ages had different levels of ability and struggled with different concepts. I think society then realized that children could not be treated like adults, and there became more of an idea of childhood.

As for the "inner child" phenomenon, I think that people who have been hurt as children, in their strive for healing in adulthood, find it symbolically useful to in some ways go back to that time period with the knowledge they know now and "explain" that things can get better to the part of that person that is still a child struggling for comfort.

At the same time, though, I think there is a change in the society of today that is still recovering from the effects of the 1980s. The 80s was, in the adult world, about power, status, money, workaholism. I think that our generation, watching the destructive burn-out of our parents and other relatives, is re-realizing the need for leisure, and unlike the distant past (the 20s and 30s), we're realizing that leisure is necessary for /all/ people, rather than a wealthy leisure class who alone is worthy of such pursuits.

Damn, I'm babbling now and probably not making any sense. You know I have a Master's Degree in Leisure Studies/Recreation Education? Ha! :)

Re:

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

Well, I'm a class away from a Master's degree in Theology. That and a buck will get you a cup of coffee at Perkins.

I missed the "destructive burn-out" part. I must have had my head in the sand.

Anyway, I don't wanna grow up.

I'm a Toys 'R Us kid.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

TAKE YOUR LAST CLASS! :)

Growing up is for dummies.

Re:

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

Yes ma'am. I'm planning to register for it in the next month or two.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

Aah, to be young and overeducated. :)

Re:

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

What the heck is a good Orthodox boy going to do with a theology degree from a Protestant seminary?? :)

To mix a metaphor: Oy!

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

Do all Orthodox churches use the little slash on the cross, or just the Eastern Orthodox (Polish) churches I'm familiar with?

Just wondering.

Re:

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

I think it's a Russian thing, really. And I'm not sure why it's slanted, except to identify perspective. I believe it's supposed to represent the platform on which Jesus' feet may or may not have rested, depending on with whom you are conversing.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I think I heard that too.

Thanks!

[cappucinogrrl.livejournal.com]

I'd stop talking to me if I were you. (Not that I want you to.)

I want to be reminded of this time in my life as little as possible in the future, unless it's to think, "damn, that sucked. glad i'm out of that." Maybe I am more idealistic now, I worry that I'm losing interest in the causes I feel passionate about. But I don't think so. I think that teens probably are more idealistic because they don't know how shitty the world can be, but if you find the right group of people, you can hold on to those ideals.

But I've never been anything older than a teenager, so I don't know.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

But I've never been anything older than a teenager, so I don't know.

I think that is one of the most adorable things you've ever said. :)

Seriously, though, time has a way of making us remember the good things more than the bad. You will find that there are things you miss about adolescence - not the whole time, or even half of it, but parts. Trust me. :)

[cappucinogrrl.livejournal.com]

I'll miss the lack of responsibility the most, I think.

But I still can't wait to get out of here. :-)

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

With good reason.