I’ve got it! I know why I don’t want to be 15!
At 15, people think "That guy’s big enough to make his own decisions now." Bloody teenagers, always out drinking and violating private property.
At 14, you can still get away with "Ah come on, he’s just a kid. He learned his lesson."
You’re still innocent at 14. You can still get away with things, and people are still treating you like a young teenager, struggling to find his self identity in the midst of etc. etc. etc. When you’re 15, all of sudden, you’re not a young teenager, you’re a bloody teenager. A confounded adolescent. It saddens me to think I’ve taken on that much more responsibility, where I can’t get out of things by pulling puppy dog eyes at the security guards. It’s not my fault I just happened to find a talking stick that instructed me to beat people with it.
Which reminds me. I saw two foreigners [they were speaking Italian?] without tickets on the Joondalup line. The line with upgraded, pretty trains because of the lack of graffiti and generally safer suburbs. Were they fined $50 each? Oh, nooooooo. No no no, they were told to pay $1.30 for the tickets because it made a difference, and they were politely asked to buy one next time they considered getting on the train. The hell with Kenwick, I’m moving to Edgewater.
On a different note, nah, I’m not really sulking about my birthday. I guess deep down, under all those frowns and curses I’m really laughing inside.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay deep down. Seriously though, I was cheered up a great deal when I received a phone call from the mighty Jecht Raiden at 9:08am. At 1:13, Mark Luca sent me an SMS (how did he get my number?) warning me not to eat too much cake. That lightened my day enormously. I got a $100 American bill, and the symbolic pieces of a puzzle that Ivy had made for me. The picture was, of course, of our time in Australia. I’m really taken aback in a good way. My baby loves me so much. *sigh* Happy Birthday Johnny m’lad.
And now to stay up until midnight celebrating with a hoola dance.