Where do these urges to rage and riot come from? Even as an adult I tap into my stockpile of Insane Suburban Energy. It’s the equivalent of a thousand fucking Energon Cubes, and I’m feeling more Starscream than Prime. My Molotov Cocktail of energy was perfected beyond the watchful eyes of parents, over the houses of fellow latchkey kids. It was stirred up at the intersection of boredom and the lack of any adult supervision, and it lives on inside me. In a single day we might build a fort, burn it down, pee on it to put it out, eat 15 boxes of Sprees, (that we should’ve been selling for school fundraisers), and jump every fence in the neighborhood like we were hurdling for gold.
Sometimes when I’m talking to my neighbors I feel like throwing a David Lee Roth high kick and then knocking over their trash cans.
There’s a mischievous wind that blows in when the seasons change in Ohio, and it stirs up all sorts of giddy, fantastic and frisky shit within me. I’d like to think that I’m much more constructive with how I channel and focus this energy these days. There aren’t that many sleepovers where I could flip the Wiley Coyote Switch and involuntarily unleash some good old collateral damage. Sometimes you just really needed to break shit to find something new and exciting.
The Insane Suburban Energy had to be locked down somewhat, at least enough to socialize and carve out a path in the conformity-lull of adult life. What’s the equivalent these days? The “demo” portion of home improvement? Siiiiigggh. Sounds like another trip to Lowe’s or Home Depot. This could be why I’ve had my psycho/spiritual car up on blocks in the yard, ripping out the tranny like I know what a goddamn transmission should look like. My radio blasts Whitesnake though, because the Red Dragon always runs better eventually. Here I go again, on my OWNNN.
It’s YOUR job to reach within and stir it up once in a while. That’s all this is, it’s not some exercise in boredom and predictable drudgery. Too many of us take the opportunity, the BLESSING that is where boredom intersects a lack of supervision, and we yield to the voices and rules around us. I’m as guilty as anyone to feeling like my options are so limited on any given day. <In my male Daria voice> “Well, I have my work, and the gym, or cleaning this or that… Maybe I’ll strum my guitar if I have a few minutes.”
The wind shifts and whispers “Fuck THAT, homes!” 60 boxes of Sprees? Check. Fort materials, matches, pee, and snacks? Check check check. Microphone? Check, boom boom.
Run and sun and fun and fun and somehow all the work gets done. My sweet baby soul is budding. Something beautiful and new always blossoms out of the chaos. 100% of the time, it works every time.
