Circa 1977, Saturday morning in the fall. Me sitting at home around 7 am, watching cartoons (probably Dr. Snuggles or one of those other "weird" European 'toons they put on before the actual network cartoons started). Eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. (We were generally not allowed sugary cereal but Saturday mornings were sometimes an exception.)
Circa 2011, Saturday morning in the fall. Me sitting at home around 7 am, watching My Little Ponies: Friendship is Magic, while eating a bowl of Chocolate Cheerios.
I'm sure all the culture-vultures and the people who like to point to people over the age of majority watching things other than, I don't know, CNBC or something, as a symptom of cultural decline, would be aghast.
But in a way, I find the image of 8 year old me vs. 42 year old me kind of a comforting and amusing juxtaposition. Though for later on in the morning, it doesn't continue to hold true: I'm over here at the office now gearing up to write a biostats exam instead of gearing up to go outside and play.
I will admit at times I feel the need to "explain" my love of certain "immature" things. On the one hand, I really am a MelonFarming Adult - I get everything done that needs to be done and more, if I say I will do something IT WILL BE DONE - even if I'm a burnt-out, borderline-sick mess by the time I've finished the thing. My bills are always paid on time and I've never written an overdraft check. It's been years since I had to slide into a deadline where I was worried if whatever-it-was was going to actually be FINISHED.
And yet I feel like I have to justify my fondness for cartoons as "I'm really not a flake in the rest of my life." (Better to be a "flake" in one's choice of entertainment than to be a flake with something that counts, I think.)
2 comments:
I remember saying to someone who gave me That Look:
"I do my job, and do it well. I pay my taxes. I clean up around my property. Beyond that, I should be able to do whatever I damn well please without having to hear from the peanut gallery."
There are just too many busbodies in general. Downside of Internet/gossip culture, I suppose, or people don't understand the concept of having a hobby. Or they're mean-spirited twaddle-pushers who are unable to have fun and resent those who CAN have fun.
If I get a Look or Comment about something I've said or done, my strategy is to say nothing at all, and let the Gallerian's comment hang in the air like the discordant clang of an old instrument better left in the attic. The ensuing silence is awkward for them and a great deal of fun for me, as peace is usually restored and I can get back to hula-hooping under the full moon whilst whistling Schubert's unfinished symphony.
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