I did an entire independent study on this topic. I wrote about The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Mysterious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, and The Catcher in the Rye and how all three main characters - Charlie, Christopher, and Holden - all came of age because of certain circumstances in their lives. This led me to think about more of these topics upon which novels are often based. I wanted to apply these themes to my life, kind of as a comparison.
So there’s the classic ‘loss of innocence’ topic. I’d have to say that for me it was seeing Meryl Streep’s left breast in the 1983 film Silkwood.
Next we have ‘love is eternal.’ Like a Jack-and-Rose type of thing. Mine is probably with my childhood (and I’m talking young young young out-of-the-womb childhood) relationship with two stuffed animals: Blankie (about a 2’ x 2’ blanket) and Turtle (a Franklin stuffed animal that conveniently doubles as a puppet). When I was about twelve, my mother suggested that we remove Blankie and Turtle from their home on my bed to somewhere else. I was abhorred at the notion of such a thing, and they are still in their home to this day.
Oh, the always-excellent ‘family will always be there when you need them.’ I can be in the worst mood in the world and my dad can always make me laugh. And it gives him such joy when he sees me cracking a smile to something he is doing... Of course, I always follow up with “JUST BECAUSE I’M SMILING DOESN’T MEAN IT’S FUNNY.” I’ve always been a terrible liar.
And for my mom, she’s always there when I’m stressed and somehow solves it. Like when I have to start writing a paper and have absolutely no idea what I am doing and I can just talk to her and she patiently listens and gives helpful suggestions to my cries of “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS COURSE IS ABOUT.” Or, when I have to pack for a two-and-a-half month job abroad and I have no idea what I’m doing (evident by my deer-in-the-headlights look while staring at my empty suitcase), my mom either eases me into it or does it for me. And usually she’s against doing things for me, like when I ask her to slice a bagel because I can never get the two sides even or to polish my dress shoes because I know I’ll end up looking like the children from Mary Poppins when they go chimney sweeping. But in the cases when I’m about to spontaneously combust, she steps in.
Finally, my sister. She’s always there when I need a hug. And by this I mean I sneak attack hug her and tell her that I’ll only stop hugging after 12 seconds... and then I’ll count really slowly and when I’m at 11.8 seconds (which is really 39 seconds), she’ll push me off but then I HAVE to sneak attack hug her again because we didn’t complete the 12 seconds. Once I sneak attack hugged her 24 times in a day - one for every hour. She loves them though (she doesn’t actually).
So yeah, the whole ‘coming-of-age’ theme. I don’t know if I’ve had that. I really don’t. Has there been a watershed moment in my life that defines my coming-of-age? Was it when I cross-dressed to save my father from going to war? Was it when I saved a gypsy from the clutches of an evil judge? Was it when my betrothed was shot by white man?
Sorry, I’m mistaking my own life for those of Disney characters.
But really, I guess those topics that we read about in coming-of-age novels are ones that are fairly candid... ones that humans are hesitant to talk about, which is why they are created in fictional books (though I suspect that there are certain auto/biographical elements to them).
Maybe my coming-of-age was this blog. Maybe it will be in this experience I’m having. Maybe it’ll be when my first kid is born. Maybe it will be when I finally learn to salsa. Maybe it will be right before I die. Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe it already has.
Maybe maybe maybe.
So there’s the classic ‘loss of innocence’ topic. I’d have to say that for me it was seeing Meryl Streep’s left breast in the 1983 film Silkwood.
Next we have ‘love is eternal.’ Like a Jack-and-Rose type of thing. Mine is probably with my childhood (and I’m talking young young young out-of-the-womb childhood) relationship with two stuffed animals: Blankie (about a 2’ x 2’ blanket) and Turtle (a Franklin stuffed animal that conveniently doubles as a puppet). When I was about twelve, my mother suggested that we remove Blankie and Turtle from their home on my bed to somewhere else. I was abhorred at the notion of such a thing, and they are still in their home to this day.
Oh, the always-excellent ‘family will always be there when you need them.’ I can be in the worst mood in the world and my dad can always make me laugh. And it gives him such joy when he sees me cracking a smile to something he is doing... Of course, I always follow up with “JUST BECAUSE I’M SMILING DOESN’T MEAN IT’S FUNNY.” I’ve always been a terrible liar.
And for my mom, she’s always there when I’m stressed and somehow solves it. Like when I have to start writing a paper and have absolutely no idea what I am doing and I can just talk to her and she patiently listens and gives helpful suggestions to my cries of “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS COURSE IS ABOUT.” Or, when I have to pack for a two-and-a-half month job abroad and I have no idea what I’m doing (evident by my deer-in-the-headlights look while staring at my empty suitcase), my mom either eases me into it or does it for me. And usually she’s against doing things for me, like when I ask her to slice a bagel because I can never get the two sides even or to polish my dress shoes because I know I’ll end up looking like the children from Mary Poppins when they go chimney sweeping. But in the cases when I’m about to spontaneously combust, she steps in.
Finally, my sister. She’s always there when I need a hug. And by this I mean I sneak attack hug her and tell her that I’ll only stop hugging after 12 seconds... and then I’ll count really slowly and when I’m at 11.8 seconds (which is really 39 seconds), she’ll push me off but then I HAVE to sneak attack hug her again because we didn’t complete the 12 seconds. Once I sneak attack hugged her 24 times in a day - one for every hour. She loves them though (she doesn’t actually).
So yeah, the whole ‘coming-of-age’ theme. I don’t know if I’ve had that. I really don’t. Has there been a watershed moment in my life that defines my coming-of-age? Was it when I cross-dressed to save my father from going to war? Was it when I saved a gypsy from the clutches of an evil judge? Was it when my betrothed was shot by white man?
Sorry, I’m mistaking my own life for those of Disney characters.
But really, I guess those topics that we read about in coming-of-age novels are ones that are fairly candid... ones that humans are hesitant to talk about, which is why they are created in fictional books (though I suspect that there are certain auto/biographical elements to them).
Maybe my coming-of-age was this blog. Maybe it will be in this experience I’m having. Maybe it’ll be when my first kid is born. Maybe it will be when I finally learn to salsa. Maybe it will be right before I die. Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe it already has.
Maybe maybe maybe.