Arctic Monkeys

arctic monkeysThis past weekend, I had a life-changing experience.

After spending ages listening to my favourite band- the Arctic Monkeys- on my iPod, I am finally getting the chance to see them live in concert.

I have spent hours listening to my favourite songs on repeat, wishing that I could hear them live.

To bring this dream to life, I will once again take to the road, driving to New York to go see them at Madison Square Gardens.

Although my friends and parents think I am crazy for taking on the 8-hour drive “JUST to see a band”, I am not deterred.

I understand it is difficult for my mother to comprehend my need to undertake this journey, but by the same token, she needs to come to terms with the fact that I am not a child. I am beginning to realize that “coming-of-age” is a real thing, but I passed that stage with flying colours a few years ago.

Sometimes I wonder if the world has lost its spirit of youthful imagination and boundless go-gettum-ness.

When I was younger, I was encouraged to dream like nobody was watching. Now, when I have a big goal (like driving across Canada solo, or going to New York to see my favourite band), all people have to tell me is what could go wrong. Everyone tells me I’m crazy, but no one tells me that my dreams are amazing and attainable.

It has become clear to me that the people around us (as university students) lump us in to an awkward transitory category- one where we get stripped of our maturity and independence when society deems it necessary. Alternatively, in many situations, they throw our independence and maturity in our faces.

When parents of my friends come to visit (those from Toronto will understand this feeling), they often criticize the decorations, style, or level of cleanliness of my friends’ abodes. They neglect to observe the fact that their children are living alone- or, at the very least, independent of them. On the other hand, these same parents will dump heightened responsibility on their kids, using their children’s newfound independence to their own nefarious ends.

I have not lived at home for four years. I have been a fully independent individual for this entire time- financially and otherwise.

That being said, my mother still treats me as though I am five years old- she has clearly fallen victim to the “I do not recognize that my kid is not a kid anymore” complex.

I do not know that this is something people can avoid, but the more I assert my independence, the clearer it becomes to all who stand in my way that I am capable of making my own decisions.

In the meantime, I’ll be planning my trip to New York…

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