My mom is awesome.
She's super down-to-earth. She graduated from the White Mountain School in 1984. I obviously wasn't around to experience her life first hand, but her humbled way of telling her story is so intoxicating. She didn't have it easy. At all.
After high school, she was unable to attend college - not by her choice. Moving out west and away from home at just 19, she never looked back. I'm not sure how long, but she spent a portion of her early 20's living on a boat in the ocean off the coast of Hawaii. That's pretty badass, if you ask me.
My mom is a survivor. She always just keeps going, even when there's a blockade the size of a mountain in her way. It's inspiring, truly, to see the determination she displays on the daily.
Along with my mom being so strong-willed, she's also incredibly understanding and gentle-natured. I've never been afraid to tell her anything. I think I can count on one hand how many times I've lied to her, and among those few, I always came clean. She'd laugh, and make fun of me for lying in the first place, because there really never was any reason to be untruthful with her. I was always free to speak my mind and think whatever I wanted. There was no judgement, and there still isn't. I was born a free spirit, and she's done nothing but nurture the abundances my mind sometimes goes to. I think a lot of my views on the world, and life in general, come from her beliefs as well as her support to think whatever I want to.
I can be a bit of a conspiracy theorist. It gets me looks of disgust and the occasional head shake. But that's okay.
To each their own.
But, my mom never shakes her head or calls me crazy. She never belittles my beliefs. If anything, we end up having an hour long discussion about aliens or that terrorist attacks are all just a ploy formed by the government.
I've always considered myself an old soul. In fact, people have told me that as well. I have always felt very misinterpreted. It's difficult for me to get along with people my age. Not to sound like a snob, but I sometimes feel that they are not of the same caliber as me. I would rather talk about the meat and guts of a person's soul than hear about what a bitchin' party they went to last weekend. It's hard to find another 20 year-old who is saving their money to buy a house in the next five years. Instead, I'm usually bombarded with conversation about what shitty beer they can only afford to drink. I'm not a straight edge, honestly. It's just that I don't care anymore. I've been to plenty of parties and been hit on by guys who smell like booze and have vomit on their shirt but still want to know if I want to "go for a walk outside to their car just to get away from everybody for a little while."
But, again, to each their own.
When I presented my latest somewhat bizarre theory to my mom, she nodded in agreement and even added some input to support my idea. I think that I'm not maybe an old soul; I am an old soul.
I'm not one of those kids on "Ghost Inside my Child" who was a member of the Donner party and can remember the chill of the horrific winter where everyone starved to death and the one's who didn't ended up eating their dead friend's remains.
But, I truly feel as though I was born in the wrong decade. The 1990's are so fascinating to me. I was born in '93, so I experienced the majority of the decade, but three years of that I was shitting in my diaper and the other four were spent in pre-school. I wish I was born in 1983 rather than 1993. That way, I could have really been there for it all, when it mattered.
It goes so much deeper than that, though. I have always loved the music of the 90's - even the crappy stuff. Obviously the generations of Beatles songs and Led Zeppelin are more influential and revolutionary than anything, ever, really. And I love Paul, John, George and Ringo dearly, but they will never sparkle in my eye like Kurt Cobain does (God rest his beautifully sexy soul). I could, and do, listen to Alanis Morissette on repeat daily. 311, 4 Non-Blondes, Blind Melon, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Greenday, The Presidents of the USA, The Barenaked Ladies, Matchbox 20, Eminem... I can even give appreciation to the Pop scene too: Backstreet Boys, 'NSYNC, Britney, Christina, Spice Girls. All of it. I love it.
But, it's aggravating because here I am, a late member of Generation Y, cusping on the Millennial generation. Except, I don't belong here.
I belong with the tapered Levi jeans, and the short belly shirts. I want the choker necklaces, tape players, smudged red lipstick, flannel shirts wrapped around my waist, with dark and messy eye makeup. I want to wear Tevas and have a horrible, greasy hair style while I listen to Courtney Love scream through my boombox.
And, of course, what are the chances that I fell in love with someone who was able to experience all of that? (Well, no choker necklaces, lipstick or eye makeup though... at least I hope not). It's no secret that Anthony is ten years older than I am. I think that offends some people, which is a shame, because we're pretty damn cute together. I am a firm believer that we do not choose who we fall in love with; there is always a twist of fate involved. I am in love with Anthony's soul, not how long his physical being has been on the earth. He was born in '83... lucky bastard. He witnessed the MTV music awards of 1992 when Nirvana won best new artist. He knew a world without cell phones and laptops. As tragic as it was, he remembers the heinous school shooting in Columbine, Colorado.
I am so envious that he was old enough to understand and experience that lifetime. My interest in the 90's is deep and borderline obsessive. I have this nagging feeling that I just should have been there in a more aware state of mind; an older version of me.
I know that many transgender people often describe themselves as being born in the wrong body. Well, is there such thing as being born in the wrong decade? Because, I think I'm that.
Yeah, I'm most definitely transdecade.
