GreenishLady

Originally Blogging the Artist's Way. Thoughts, musings, experience of the 12-week course, January to March 2006. And after that?.... Life, creativity, writing. Where does it all meet? Here, perhaps.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Sunday Scribbling - Mis-spent Youth

Oh. Youth. So long ago, so far away, and still, so near in memory, so much a part of me now, just under the skin, just below the surface: There she is, the girl who skipped out on a maths test to go fishing. (No, it was not the fish, but the man with the plan, of course, that attracted me). There she is, the one who would follow anyone with a guitar, who chanced it and tried it, just once, mostly. She skipped school, and spent hours in cafes, hours and hours, long enough for one crowd to come in and go, and another to take their place, and still she would sit, waiting in hopes that HE would come in, and when he did, well, she had no shame, that girl, I tell you... flirting, flirting. Shyness came earlier, and shyness came later, but at that time, when she was sixteen, oh, there wasn't a trace of shyness, not when what was at stake was HIM. Even (I blush to admit it), when there was a girlfriend. She knew that girl wasn't meant for him. She was meant for him, obviously! And all was fair in that love, at least.

Those were the days of self as centre of the universe, those were the days when nothing else was important, and no-one else, either. Days of impromptu camping trips (and white lies to explain them), and riding pillion without a helmet. Those were days of invincibility, and days when, if it all went wrong today, it could all start to go right again tomorrow, maybe. Days of taking risks and speaking without worrying about consequences. Those were the days spent in doing just what I was meant to be doing. Those were the days of youth, spent being young, swinging my hair, lighting up that cigarette, days of chats and giggles, songs played over and over on the record-player, shared plates of chips and hours sitting on the grass of the park. Those were the days when adults didn't have a clue, when we understood the world, and knew, with certainty, that we would stay forever young.

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Go see how all the other Sunday Scribblers spent the days of their youth HERE

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8 Comments:

At 25/11/07 11:40 pm, Blogger Jennifer Hicks said...

it was fun being a the centre of the universe, wasn't it?!

Great post!

 
At 26/11/07 2:10 am, Blogger DJPare said...

Those days certainly didn't sound misspent to me! Nice.

 
At 26/11/07 7:34 am, Anonymous tinker said...

I loved reading this...Though on the other side of the world, I think we may have spent (or mis-spent) our youths very similarly. I also think they only seem mis-spent to us in retrospect because as adults now, we think of all the things we might have done - but really how we spent our youth, is as much a part of how we became who we are today as anything else we've done, so perhaps we spent them as we should have...

 
At 26/11/07 3:43 pm, Anonymous gautami tripathy said...

In our youth, world is our oyster. Misspent? Never!

Great post!

 
At 27/11/07 3:53 pm, Blogger The Alchemist said...

Great post, it's like I knew you. Your still the centre of the Universe by the way, It's just that we actually felt it back then. I loved this post greenishlady

 
At 28/11/07 2:21 am, Blogger Julie Marie said...

I was such a goody two shoes when I was a teen. I wish I had swung my hair more (and it WAS long then).

Julie

 
At 28/11/07 7:21 am, Blogger tumblewords said...

I always yearned to swing my hair but it's never been long enough. What a great and fun read this was!

 
At 28/11/07 11:29 pm, Blogger Fran aka Redondowriter said...

This was wonderful to read, although I'll admit that I was so darned self-conscious that what you describe came less frequently than it did for you. Ah yes, the center of the universe, and always on the prowl for "the man," the one who would be our forever-mate. I've become jaded in my later years wondering if all that youth isn't just mother nature's way of tricking us to propagate, but oh, how glorious to recall.

 

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