This is the conclusion my co-worker, Lydia, and I came to a couple of days ago. While you could not pay me enough to be an adolescent again, being a grown-up presents its own set of...yuckiness. And by yuckiness, I mean all the crap that happens that you have to figure out how to deal with, without anyone's help, while still going to work every day and trying to help other people sort out THEIR crap. I swear to God, I'm going to quit my job and find work that involves very concrete tasks and minimal interaction with the public. That way, when my personal life feels like it's shot to hell, I don't have to pretend everything is okay so that I can appear competent and capable enough to help people -- innocent children, really -- make some sort of semblence of their lives. Plus, I won't have to feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself for the way my personal life is going, since I won't be dealing with 3-year-olds who have experienced more trauma in their short existence on this earth than I have in my entire 29 years.
But, alas, I am a grown-up. I'm still not sure how that happened, or when, but I really would like to make it stop sometimes. You know, just for a day or two.
Here is a picture of a cool-looking flower I saw on a hike last weekend:
