Jumping in puddles

Sigur Rós - Hoppípolla from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

It was my birthday last week, and I am now irremediably an adult--at least if you measure adulthood in terms of years lived, because no matter how old I get, I can't seem to shake the sensation that I'm really just a little girl playing dress up in heels far too big for her tiny feet. My apartment still feels something like a oversized cubby house every now and then! Time nonetheless seems to thunder on and my grown up to-do list mounts with each day that slips by. I work more hours than I perhaps should given my uni work load at the moment, but I really struggle to say 'no!', even when I can get by without the extra pocket money, because I worry tremendously about the way I'll be perceived if I come forward to admit that I've bitten off more than I can chew. The unfortunate result is that today I'm feeling really quite snowed under as deadlines loom larger. I'm a little run-down and, unsurprisingly, have succumbed to my first bout with the flu in well over a year, so I'm at home this morning, reading, sipping tea, and trying to coax myself into some gentle study. 

In my Internet travels earlier, I bumped into this video clip by Sigur Ros, a band I've always adored, and it cheered my weary grown up heart immeasurably. When life seems dreary and hum drum, I think it pays to remember that while responsibilities are irksome, you're never too old to jump in puddles, even when you're wearing your best and prettiest skirt, and even when on the way to accomplish important grown up errands. Billy Collins bemoans the loss of light and simplicity that comes with turning ten, but I should like to think that, however trite and corny a sentiment it might be, we need never forget the way magic used to feel. I, for one, still haven't quite given up on the idea of becoming a pirate or stumbling off on an unexpected adventure... And I certainly like to think that I'll always be able to see an elephant in a boa constrictor and not a bowler hat in this!:

'You tell me it is too early to be looking back,

but that is because you have forgotten

the perfect simplicity of being one

and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.

But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.

At four I was an Arabian wizard.

I could make myself invisible

by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.

At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.' 

(From On Turning Ten, by Billy Collins)