The middle parts

I was laying on my couch, or I guess I am laying on my couch, watching Adventure Time when I wondered what happened to our childlike creativity?

I just finished school last Wednesday and I also lost my job (unfortunately), so I’m totally free to do whatever I want whenever I want. Which sounds amazing in theory, but having so much free time somehow caused me to feel like I have nothing to do. Or maybe more accurately, nothing I can do.

This morning I walked into the kitchen while my grandma was eating breakfast. We greeted each other, spoke a little, and then I said, “there’s nothing I can do, I’m done with everything.” She quickly suggested reading a book, and then I suggested maybe I should write. So for the past 2 hours I had been thinking about writing, and more specifically what I should write for my new blog post. And I was completely stuck. Zero ideas. All of the other ideas I had written down suddenly didn’t even feel interesting anymore.

So I pulled out my computer and started watching Adventure Time. My favorite animated show of all time. Hearing that intro makes me feel like I’m suddenly six again.

But more specifically, I was watching season 4 episode 8, “Goliad” where Princess Bubblegum invents a creature using her own DNA because, like she says, she won’t live forever after almost losing her life to the Lich. She’s in charge of an entire kingdom full of candy people and worries what might happen to them once she’s gone.

My favorite part of the episode is when she quietly looks back at Finn and Jake and whispers, “I would if I could.” Like if she could live forever, she would.

As she shows Finn and Jake the “Goliad” she’s visibly exhausted because she’s been awake for 80 hours. Finn and Jake offer to start showing Goliad how to be a leader, but the episode quickly takes a turn when they accidentally suggest that control is the easy solution, leaving the Candy Kingdom at jeopardy. The episode is essentially about how easy influence and power can change someone.

Towards the end, Princess Bubblegum engineers another creature, “Stormo,” to stop Goliad from taking over the kingdom. Except this time he’s created using Finn’s strand of hair, giving the creature Finn's innate heroic spirit. The episode ends with a profound, quiet moment when Finn realizes Stormo is basically his son. Looking at the sacrifice stormo made, Finn acknowledges their bond with a simple : “Happy birthday, Stormo.”

Right after that, with a smile on my face, I immediately paused the episode and started writing. There’s something so special and comforting about animated shows because they aren’t afraid to be imaginative and weird in the way adulthood is. Nobody questions a candy kingdom or a stretchy yellow dog. But adults question themselves constantly.

What happened to our childlike creativity? And why does having “unlimited time” as an adult feel more empty than exciting?

Me being considered an adult is the same thing as the letter y being a vowel. Technically true, but still weird to think about. A, E, I, O, U… Y?

Every day I’m learning new things that I suddenly have to fall in line with when it comes to adulting. All of a sudden there are appointments to make, emails to answer, jobs to apply to, bills to pay, saving money, taxes, gas prices—everything. Things that got thrown at me so quickly I don’t even remember when the main shift happened.

Like Princess Bubblegum, I try to control everything because I get scared of what could happen if I can’t keep my grip on everything. It’s all very stressful and anxiety-inducing, all while having to keep up with everyone else and trying to be the most "perfect" version of myself.

About two weeks ago I finally felt like I had introduced a solid schedule into my life. It was constant. School, work, home, repeat, repeat, repeat. I knew my fourth semester of college was coming to an end, but I never predicted losing my job too.

Which honestly is okay. I didn’t even cry, which I thought I would. At the end of the day it’s just a silly barista job. It was just unexpected. I didn’t see it coming and I couldn’t even plan for it. Which sucks to admit, but I guess that’s also part of growing up.

The way my heart dropped when I got the text from my ex-boss telling me not to come back. I felt so upset and sad, but also immediately thought: what am I gonna do now? How am I gonna fund my summer?

At the same time though, I also felt weirdly free. Like yay, I don’t have to wake up early anymore and spend half my day making drinks and taking orders and pretending to be sunshine and rainbows while I feel like the Chicago 2004 "poopgate" incident. Now I can finally do whatever I want.

I remember thinking, oh my god, I’m gonna do absolutely everything.

Fast forward to this morning and I’m sitting there thinking there’s actually not much I can do because waking up itself costs money in this economy. Breathing costs twenty dollars. Especially gas prices. Are you kidding? Life feels like a subscription service I cant afford. Chicago 2004 poopgate incident continues.

And it’s rough because I feel guilty during the moments where I have to ask my mom for money. For example, yesterday was Mother’s Day and my older brother asked me to split dinner with him, but I genuinely just didn’t have enough money. It's hard feeling like an adult when you're staring at your bank account, trying to figure out how you're gonna make a few hundred dollars last for months.

I wake up with all this time to do things, but instead it feels like this depressing loop of being stuck in my own head and being constrained by what’s in my wallet.

And then I try to write, but there’s truly nothing I hate more than forcing creativity. At the same time though, I absolutely adore moments like this where I’m just click-clacking away and the thoughts in my head are being typed almost directly onto the screen. A real writer’s flow.

The difference between childhood and adulthood is that when we’re kids, boredom creates entire worlds and kingdoms. But as adults, boredom creates anxiety, overthinking, and this eternal pit of “oh my god I’m not doing enough with my life.”

Then you open your phone and it somehow feels even worse because you see everybody else doing something with their lives while you feel stuck. Everyone getting internships, traveling, making money, figuring themselves out. Meanwhile you’re laying on your couch watching cartoons and wondering why your brain suddenly forgot how to create things without overthinking them. It becomes this terrible self- pity cycle.

When we were kids, free time meant playing with toys or sitting in our rooms for hours making stories out of absolutely nothing. Now I can open my laptop with complete freedom yet somehow still feel trapped by it.

What makes that shift happen? Why do we suddenly feel like we constantly need to be moving mountains just to feel good enough?

Similarly to Princess Bubblegum, I think a lot of adulthood is realizing how badly we want permanence. She wants part of herself left behind with the Candy Kingdom forever. She says, “I'm not going to live forever, Finn. I would if I could.” And honestly I understand that feeling. The fear of things ending. The fear of instability. The fear of not being in control forever.

Even though I’m only out of school until fall, it’s still strange having one of the biggest parts of my routine suddenly disappear. And then work completely disappearing too just intensified it. It left me subconsciously sitting there thinking: okay… so what now?

But maybe that’s why I went back to Adventure Time instead of forcing myself to write. Pressing play and sitting through twelve minutes of creative gold reminded me of a time when creativity felt automatic. When being “bored” meant inventing something new instead of panicking over finding a purpose.

I remember I had to be about 4, but my mom had this wonderful smelling hair oil and I can still vividly remember the scent. I think it might’ve been her birthday, and while she went to do her hair (at the time my parents were still together), my dad stayed and watched me, but he was watching a sports game instead of truly keeping his eye on me. Which made me think I could get away with it, but the problem was I didn’t think my plan through well enough. And since I was a little girl, figure skating was one of my favorite things. So I went to find the good-smelling oil and poured it all over the wood floors, creating my own at-home ice rink. I glided on the wood floor. Everyone was really upset at me, and when people came over to celebrate my mom’s birthday I remember one of my aunts slipping (I’m sorry). But the little time I had making my own makeshift ice rink in my home was so worth it that I still remember it to this day. Even if it was mainly about how much I got in trouble, I created something out of nothing—well, something out of hair oil. Although, I definitely advise just sticking to your local skating rink.

Creativity as a child felt effortless because there was no pressure for it to become productivity, income, or some grand purpose. Adulthood changes people, and of course we’re shaped by everything that happens to us, but I still think it’s important to hold onto the beauty of childlike wonder.

And honestly, I think six-year-old Tiffany would be pretty happy knowing I still sit around watching twelve-minute cartoon episodes and somehow turning them into another form of creativity. Maybe growing up isn’t about losing our childlike wonder completely. Maybe it’s about learning how to find it again after the world convinces you otherwise.

There’s this Adventure Time quote I love, said by none other than Nurse Betsy Pound Cake:

“You know when you’re little and the future feels really far away? You don’t know what it looks like. You just hope you’ll have stuff figured out by then. You’ll know exactly how to act and feel. You’ll have conquered all your fears. And you’ll never feel dumb or uncomfortable. You don’t think about how you’ll actually get there. The middle parts, between now and then… The middle parts suck.”

My favorite thing about this quote is I’m pretty sure, for the most part, life is just the middle parts. But it’s also a great description of what being a grown up looks like when you’re still a child, not realizing that most adults still feel this way.

Little me wasn’t quite ready for all of this, but it reminds me I'm alive. To be able to experience all these feelings, to make mistakes and be wrong—I’m so lucky I'm not the “perfect” girl.

I love Adventure Time.