Man, If I Had A Delorean...

I am in desperate need of a Delorean.

A silver, rev it up and go , "faster Doc, faster", gone in a flash, Back to the Future Delorean.

I want to make like Cher (although not ass-less on a Navy vessel....well maybe...) and Turn Back Time.

I sat in traffic this morning, dazed and on auto-pilot like I usually am and a Taylor Swift song came on. Now, I am not one that usually bows down to the campy pop/country Tween Idol, sucked into her guitary rantings about love and spite and blah blah blah, but this one was different. I hadn't been tortured ad nausea by this little ditty before.

It was simple. It was about being 15. About thinking back to that age after some time had passed and remembering what it was like to be that young and naive. Wishing you knew what you know now, THEN.

Granted, now that she is what 19, (not 30) I am sure not much in her life has changed, she's still a kid essentially, but still it hit me. So much of what I base my life on, so much of what I think I know about so many things goes back to when I was that age.

Life, love, money all of it. All of what I think I know, all of it began at 15. When I started working, when I got my first real boyfriend. The one I unfairly compared the rest of them to the rest of my adult life. Everything. The world began at 15, it started it's evolutionary path to change. To life as I know it now. Skewed off its axis and out of control, but it started then.

I long for those simplicities. Those times I thought the world was ending in my own overly dramatic emphasis when now I know what it really feels like to struggle. Back when the universe crashing down around me was because I didn't pass a test or I was grounded or a certain boy snapped my bra in class. Back when I had all the energy I envy now and wish I could have bottled up to store and save for use now, because boy do I need it more than ever.

I mean sure I had hardships as a teen, I dealt with more than a lot of teens had to deal with, but even given those extenuating circumstances I would go back in a second. Go back to the comfort of my insanely decorated bedroom in the safety of my parents house. My mom and dad BOTH there to guide me. Be mad at me, yell at me, be disappointed in me at times sure, but be there nonetheless.

I long for the days where I walked into a mall and got my first job with ease, making my minimum wage happily and knowing having my own money made me feel independent, even if I still largely depended on my family. Minimum wage back then was like $4.25 and I was excited about it. Excited. I can't even fathom being excited to make the amount of money it costs to buy a latte now, but I was.

I was a walking contradiction in high school. Cheerleader, Newspaper editor. In both chorus and band. I was in Model UN and Harvard Model Congress. I did the Environmental Club, I was on the Executive Board. I played soccer, I tried basketball. And still I worked, usually 2 jobs, I socialized. I even babysat 3 boys. I look back and have no idea how the hell I did any of it. How I pulled of the being pseudo jock/scholar/popular gal all in one. I was never pigeon-holed.

Now I have 1 job, seemingly simple in nature if you think about it. I'm not being pulled in as many directions as I was then, and yet I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally drained after 8 hours at a desk. Sure I'm a mom now which is another full time job in and of itself, but I feel like half the time I can't even function to spite myself.

15.

And 15 years later, I am more lost than ever. On the brink of losing my job to a lay-off in weeks, searching frantically to be re-employed. Bills piling up by the truckload it seems, and debt collectors pounding down the doors to find me. Phone calls and disconnect notices and all I want to do is crawl under my covers and hide. Cry, weep, wail, scream. Wake up and have it all be a horrible dream.

Realize that all this time, all this horrible stuff I have been going through, all the shit that hits the fan every time I seemingly get it just about cleaned off from the last time is a joke, that I have just been being Punk'd the whole time. That suddenly an Ashton Kutcher will appear out of nowhere and say “HAHA got ya!”, and in an instant all order will be restored.

I could breathe a sigh a relief.

But that's not going to happen. Doc isn't going to take me back in time to make things easier or to right what’s been wronged. Ashton isn't going to pop out and tell me it's all been part of some diabolical plan to Punk me. It hasn't been some long-standing Dramedy to watch like that Jim Carey movie where he was created just to be scrutinized, his life made to unfold just for your viewing pleasure.

There's no Delorean in my future, and there is no future in my past. It's all now or never and I have no idea what the fuck I am doing, where to go, or what the hell I'm going to do when I figure it out. If I ever do.

But man, if I had a Delorean...