Introducing my roommate Leong to my Saturday morning cartoon binge habit proved to be one of my BEST ideas EVER. She’s a very animated watcher, frequently laughing, gasping in horror and, in the end, delighted by these silly shows.

It’s almost a case for convergent evolution, how two creatures, from opposite ends of culture and the world can be so similar.

I find myself watching her, for her reaction, as much as the shows themselves - I’ve seen them before but I rediscover them vicariously and emotionally through her. We can spend hours dissecting character arcs and plot twists - we’ve found a small, stress-free heaven.

It’s 10:40am Sunday morning and Leong is dipping celery in barbecue sauce for breakfast again. “THAT’s just gross,” I deem, holding my hand up to block my view of this travesty.

“You should TALK,” she says, “Flexatarian!”

I gasped, like a slapped Chris Rock in the face of this naked aggression. “Why am I a Flexatarian! I demand, my mind reeling for context, “because I ordered the potato burrito at taco bell?” I look around for some sort of rescue or validation, but we’re alone.

“That’s so FAUX,” I say, in an injured voice, shaking my head sadly. “I’m by the book carnivore,” I say, holding my fingers in a three-fingered girl scout pledge.

“And you have to live with that trauma,” Leong says, scooping an extra large dollop of sauce with her celery as I make gagging and heaving sounds.

I'm 25 and my shirt glows in the dark. A skeleton rock on symbol lights up as the world darkens around me. That's always been me though, never growing up fully, and I would never apologize for that result.

Responsibilities ****. Showing up every day only to do it all again tomorrow can get pretty **** tedious and is constantly boring. But when we find the little things that bring light to the darkness, who are we to turn them away. Of course we can't always have the light because we wouldn't appreciate it nearly as much. Sure, we will have those things that take up space, the things that we have to do in order to live, but that is not our definition. Our dreams perpetually change - we have no definition. Our best bet in this world is to find those things that bring light and hold on to them.

So wear that glow in the dark t-shirt, wear those dinosaur footy pajamas, jump in puddles, watch cartoons, eat sweet cereals, draw horribly, sing innocently, get excited about the little things. Because life isn't one whole big thing - it's made up of millions of smaller pieces - collect the good ones.



-t.s.

I see it as from outside a window,
Myself walking fast, head bowed,
Life happening all around me without sound,
Distanced even then, not sure I know why
The paces of development grow hazy around that line.

My heart was soft,
My head curiously empty,
A balloon floating along,
Not certain where she might belong

It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head,

I don't remember the feel of the wind on my face,
But the feel of the wood I sat on in my classroom
The urgency every time the bell rang for lunch hour,
The acrid taste of isolation when I hadn't enough for the tack room

It was the best of times,
I still go there is my head,

My friend had a bag of coin in the desk nearby,
I saw her put it there and,
I took it, I don't know why,
They found me out, hung me dry,
From then on I tried not to pry,
Kids really know how to crucify.

It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head.

When my child's eye was pure,
Boys hard-wearing, still demure,
I used to think I would never be self-assured,
I'm still not,
Confrontation ties my insides in a knot,

But I live for those days,
When Saturday mornings meant cartoons,
Followed by hilariously misguided cooking attempts at noon,
That would get you later whooped past sense
All your friends watching from the fence.

It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head.

The years when I was a child were filled with a infinite range of emotions.
Emotions so strong it felt I could move mountains, land, and even oceans.
My childhood was full of tears and fun.
I know now I am not the only one.
I remember exploring the country side with friends.
When we were older we drifted apart and the pain never ends.
I remember all the cartoons we watched.
I remember birthdays, Christmas, and the toys that were brought.
I remember all the pets we had.
I remember the days when I was happy or sad.
When I think about it I am mad.
The days I have now are filled with sorrow and grief from that.
Though my childhood still remains.
I should be glad that I am alive, please relieve these restraints.
Every day I am reminded of the past.
Hopefully I relieve the pain at last.
I am not proud at what I have become.
Maybe now the dreams of my love.
My friends and family I will follow them.
With their guidance I will swallow them.
I hope to never remember the past so angered.
For some, hope for the future is endangered.
My advice is to find something you are good at doing.
Run for the future and never look back unless it is wrong you are pursuing.
I will keep the past pain and hardship near.
My pain in my heart is stored right here.

As I stare into the starlit sky
I wonder if i'll catch this guy?
Does Jupiter hide behind it's moons?
Do specters and goblins dance it's tunes?

Will Velma ever sing my song?
My heart for her will ever long!

Daphne, don't laugh at me!
Can't you see that what's happening,
is beautiful and sacred,
I wish you were naked
in my Mystery Van, half bake-ed

The tv is blaring
with the
big bad wolf scaring
three little pigs,
who manage to
get the jump
on him,
making me grin
when they win.

I see
other cartoon figures
get hit with
a TNT blast
if that was me
I wouldn’t come back.

All the ducks in a row
like Donald and Scrooge,
even got a black duck
who is a daffy dude.

All the laughter
is great,
this passionate pleasure
made frame by frame
eases my pain,
and remind me
how funny
****** up
**** can be.