Today I came across the old Jazz
Standard Blame It On My Youth. Written
in the early 1930s and interpreted by a variety of crooner greats from Sinatra
over King Cole to outstanding Jamie Cullum, this song keeps inspiring
generations. Until we are young all our positive and negative experience might
be safe out of our certain immunity called juvenileness, but what happens the
day we can’t excuse ourselves that easy anymore? Is it possible to grow up at
the end or is adultness a grey and old imagination of pure perfection built by
moral, rules and conventions – so called noble
moments? Doesn’t everybody stay this small, sensitive but jealous and angry
kid somewhere in the corners of one’s mind and isn’t it even this special kind
of humanity keeping us away from the remarkable façade of adult integrity? Can
we ever leave the idea from adored to bored and be the one taking rational
decisions? I think it stays hard to finish blaming somebody or –thing for our
decisions as it may be another significance of childhood, trying to push
harmful sorrows from oneself. What is an adult? Nothing but a grown up kid – if
we are pleased to believe old Walt Disney.
And like the yearly procedure of
buying Christmas presents we feel like kids again. Staring into those gorgeous
vitrines showing us ever again our unfulfilled dreams we may realize that it
might be this concrete issue keeping us aware from adultness – dreams that
until now didn’t come true, because we absolutely need in our childish hearts a
something we can long for. In some special periods of the year we try to keep our
hearts light with troubles far away, just like the days we had someone who felt
supposed to do up our shoelaces properly. But can we believe this magic of our
sighs?
Where do all those great Peter Pan moments vanish during the rest of the year while we are waiting being young at heart again? No matter how we try to be mature. We will always be a kid when we get hurt – and we will cry, far away from our actual expectations. So where to search when we forget to believe in those moments waiting for us – that place between sleep and awake where dreaming is still remembered? Second star to the right and then straight on till morning.
Cheers
Lorax
Where do all those great Peter Pan moments vanish during the rest of the year while we are waiting being young at heart again? No matter how we try to be mature. We will always be a kid when we get hurt – and we will cry, far away from our actual expectations. So where to search when we forget to believe in those moments waiting for us – that place between sleep and awake where dreaming is still remembered? Second star to the right and then straight on till morning.
Cheers
Lorax
