Oh, the irony

The childhood shows the man
As morning shows the day.
~John Milton, Paradise Regained

I’m watching The Little Mermaid right now. It’s my all-time second-favorite Disney movie, for around a million reasons. (My favorite is Beauty and the Beast, and I would be watching that, but I couldn’t find the VHS when I went to look for it, so I settled. It’s not really a pity. I also love Aladdin and The Lion King—these four movies clustered together seem, in my mind, like old friends, but aside from that, they comprise a significant portion of my childhood TV face time. If you add Winnie-the-Pooh in, that’s probably about 90%. We don’t believe in much TV at my house.) While I’m watching this glorious gem of a G-rated film, I’m blogging, downloading some new music on iTunes, and reading a TIME review about the movie Wanted, which I went with three girlfriends last night to see. (It’s rated R, and none of us actually liked it, but going was still fun. We jumped and whispered and covered our faces and bit our fists, and then made fun of it. “What is this movie supposed to be telling me?” Kayla asked. “I mean, seriously. What do they want from us?” I have no idea. It’s such a boy movie.)

This morning, I put on my Cinderella sheets. I’ve had them since I was maybe three, which makes them about fifteen years old—still, they’re soft and cool and they have lace on the edge and my favorite pillowcase ever, and their soft purple coordinates perfectly with my lavender walls and the Cecily Mary Barker flower fairy wallpaper near my ceiling. While I accomplished this domestic task, I chatted via cell phone with my boyfriend.

My mother gave me my final graduation present yesterday. It’s a Dorothy Barbie I openly coveted in Wal-Mart last year. Right now she’s (in her box still) reclining in my Samantha doll’s bed; I haven’t yet figured what I’ll do with her, but she thrills me. I thought about putting her on my desk, but I hate to cover all the pictures I’ve got propped up and framed—pictures from Europe, pictures from Prom, pictures from dance competition/workshop, pictures from graduation…

Sensing irony yet?

So, the question is: do I need to grow up all the way, or am I simply a well-balanced young lady, with equal measures of childhood and and adulthood? Don’t bother to ask me. I think growing up all the way would be boring, and I’m not going to do it. :]