A Revealing Conversation with a 19 Year Old

(boys will play – filming as usual. This also counts as work for my YouTube prankster son, JStuStudios)

Do you remember the feeling of freedom after high school? You’ve graduated, you’re about to move out and now it’s summer. You’re free to hang out with your friends morning, noon and of course, after midnight. Free to explore, hike, camp, eat burnt marshmallows, go cliff diving, snowboarding or shopping. Whatever you want, you are the deciding factor. Feeling empowered, you hold your life’s cards.

And yet lurking nearby is another word: Adulthood.

Utility bills.

Student loans.

Rent.

Groceries. More like ramen noodles.

Rising gas prices.

Major life choices. What do I want to be now that I’m a grown up?

And that lovely word, responsibility.

A few days ago I had a revealing conversation with one of my son’s friends. (These days my house is full of 19 year olds) Sitting on the couch with this guy I said, “So, how do you like being an adult so far?”

“I like being an adult, I just don’t like the responsibility of being one,” he answered.

“Well, there’s one word for that: Bum.”

He laughed. I smiled.

Isn’t it funny how when we’re young we long for that day when we’re finally adults? And then we become adults and we want to be kids again? Today I’m still thinking about these couple sentences. Because I’m in my forties and I’m often NO different. I want the freedom of adulthood, but I don’t want the responsibility.

As a responsible adult, I must work to survive. But as a creative, playful heart, I’d rather not. I’d rather make fun memories. Explore small towns and take pictures of old doors and cracked windows. Laugh until I cry. Eat red licorice or chips and salsa or both. Listen to songbirds sing. Drink vanilla lattes. Or watch stormy clouds sail across the Colorado sky.

Hmm, is that okay?

Here’s a post I shared on Twitter this week as I thought through this conversation. It’s truth for me and you.

Discover what you love and work from there.

If I can find that something that doesn’t feel like grunt labor, I can do it. And if it feels like child’s play, I’m all game. Maybe that’s why I’m a writer and why I carry my camera everywhere I go or why I love to wear a costume or bring toys when I speak. I feel most alive when I create or discover beauty in life and in people.

My idea of work is creative play. I’m an artist of sorts. I love getting my hands dirty, digging in my garden, painting with my fingers, sanding an old piece of furniture, scribbling, or making a word collage. And when I’m extra silly, doing my chicken dance comes in handy. Think stress relief. I love all things handmade or handwritten. There’s nothing more magnificent than seeing something old and forgotten that has depth of character and beauty. I drool over unique.

So as I refocus on what I want to be when I grow up(haha), I’m committed marrying my responsibility with play. And as of today, I think I’m on the right track. Silly Putty or Potato Heads, anyone? (I own both. Yep, I’m a kid at heart.)

So the question remains should I work or play? My answer: YES, both.

Q4U: Which do you value more, work or play?