Winter in the City

These dudes got me good. The hecklers got heckled. Yeah.

We were yelling shit at them and then they started throwing snowballs. Naturally, we made cracks about their throwing ability until one hit me in the head through the screen.
Yeah, seriously.

A retaliation was called for. I heard I was spoken for. Which also apparently means something else. I heard that for the first time last year. I love when people my age say things that make them sound ancient because I know they learned it from their parents or grandparents or some other adult in their lives. I imagine them in their childhood homes learning these words and phrases from their parents and then growing up to use them unembarrassed in front of their peers.

I like that...because (at least for me) living at home post-puberty was all about embarrassment. I was embarrassed by my brother, my parents, myself. My mom always used the word 'sassy.' So did her mom. I hated when she used it to describe one of the cats's behavior in front of my friends. OMG so embarrassing! It wasn't until I heard my cousin use it a few years ago that I found it kind of sweet.

I suppose that's what I'm getting at, then. I find it sweet and unencumbered by selfish reservations about public perception.  A who-gives-a-shit from a 14-year old that lives on. I was a weak child. I gave in to every dare and lied about every truth. I was afraid to be uncool, and (like most kids) never believed that the nice girl who was friends with everyone would be the one you'd want to be. Hate me, fear me, love me, just don't ask to be my friend because I don't understand that interaction. I don't like to acknowledge straightforward interaction; I'm but a child.

Now I cherish the few childish thoughts and feelings I still have. I love when I say something hella immature or have a childish thought. Well, I don't always love it. But I'm happy when I do.