A lot of my Spring Break has been spent cleaning out my old things, deciding what to put in storage, what to donate, and what to save. It has left me nostalgic and not a little sad that I'm growing up literally before my eyes. I have recently found a little...rant(?) that I wrote in high school between the lines of a draft of an excused absence note. It seems oddly, and not oddly, appropriate here.
"Duck Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Duck Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Duck Season!"
We all know what happens now. Dear old Bugs will produce a rifle and blow the ever envious Daffy to ashes. Daffy will rise to perpetuate his one-sided rivalry, and again, and again, he will lose. We laugh because it is so predictable, because although our sputtering friend lies in ashes, he will no doubt get up and try again. Bug's craft ingenuity will thwart Daffy's petty jealousy every time. Charlie Brown will never kick the football. The Power Rangers will always win...eventually. These were the norms when we grew up. We would always solve Blue's Clues. Ernie would always splish splash with his rubber ducky. The good guys will always win.
But we grow up. In a world dominated by politics, mind games, and alliances, I find myself wishing more for order, for the days when pushing someone on the playground meant you would trip on a rock and fall down yourself. Human nature is to be duplicitous, I know. People are self-serving; they are closet sycophants. But how I wish I could forget for a little while, and regress (or progress?) to the innocent candy coated world of a three-year-old who willingly gets up early to watch Willey Coyote waste his infinite wealth on backfiring Acme products.
In this world, the one in which I am trapped, Bugs Bunny lives in the future and is green. The Power Rangers wear capes. Stress causes even the strongest people to break down, to give up. Earthquakes, floods, droughts, and famine wreak havoc on the lives of those who are just trying to live. Thus, people seek escape through artificial highs that do just that: clear their minds so that they are as lucid as three-year-olds. I don't blame them. The world is randomly unfair. Cookie Monster no longer eats cookies. There is no black and white. Spontaneity is a beautiful thing, but what I wouldn't give right now to go back to the place I used love, when I was young. What I wouldn't give to regain the hope that the bad guys will always lose, even if the good guys do not always win. What I wouldn't give for it to be Duck Season.
"Duck Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Duck Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Rabbit Season!"
"Duck Season!"
We all know what happens now. Dear old Bugs will produce a rifle and blow the ever envious Daffy to ashes. Daffy will rise to perpetuate his one-sided rivalry, and again, and again, he will lose. We laugh because it is so predictable, because although our sputtering friend lies in ashes, he will no doubt get up and try again. Bug's craft ingenuity will thwart Daffy's petty jealousy every time. Charlie Brown will never kick the football. The Power Rangers will always win...eventually. These were the norms when we grew up. We would always solve Blue's Clues. Ernie would always splish splash with his rubber ducky. The good guys will always win.
But we grow up. In a world dominated by politics, mind games, and alliances, I find myself wishing more for order, for the days when pushing someone on the playground meant you would trip on a rock and fall down yourself. Human nature is to be duplicitous, I know. People are self-serving; they are closet sycophants. But how I wish I could forget for a little while, and regress (or progress?) to the innocent candy coated world of a three-year-old who willingly gets up early to watch Willey Coyote waste his infinite wealth on backfiring Acme products.
In this world, the one in which I am trapped, Bugs Bunny lives in the future and is green. The Power Rangers wear capes. Stress causes even the strongest people to break down, to give up. Earthquakes, floods, droughts, and famine wreak havoc on the lives of those who are just trying to live. Thus, people seek escape through artificial highs that do just that: clear their minds so that they are as lucid as three-year-olds. I don't blame them. The world is randomly unfair. Cookie Monster no longer eats cookies. There is no black and white. Spontaneity is a beautiful thing, but what I wouldn't give right now to go back to the place I used love, when I was young. What I wouldn't give to regain the hope that the bad guys will always lose, even if the good guys do not always win. What I wouldn't give for it to be Duck Season.
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