Today, I was reminded of how immature (read: totally retarded) I can be when faced with some types of situations. I should not forget to take my mature pills, since they don’t only keep me from embarrassing myself, they also keep me level. I have yet to learn to shut up whenever necessary, when to keep my voice down, and when to have an opinion and meddle and when not to meddle but still have an opinion. Actually, I’d be able to fill several books on what I have yet to learn, so let’s not get ahead of Batman and the Universe.
I accept and acknowledge the fact that I’ll learn as I go, and I’m not more mature than the person sitting next to me on the bus this morning who was busying himself with probing the inside of his nostrils and smearing the results of his investigations upon the bus seats. I do not have the social license to judge because I’m not sure I was above doing that when I was his age (around three or four). My mother remains to be my moral compass, though on occasion I’ve told her, “Nay, ang mean mo.” She only laughs, of course.
I can only wish to be as cool as her when I’m 50-ish.
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