I Miss Getting Dirty
Why don’t I feel allowed to have fun for the sake of it anymore?
Mom hated when I wore Crocs without socks to school. The Crocs were her idea in the first place—comfortable and easy to clean, she stands by the brand to this day.
The school playground was mostly dirt that would get into the shoes via their holes, gross enough as is, but the dirt would mix with sweat, and lo and behold, I’d come home every day with dried mud caked on to my feet.
Was it disgusting like my mom claimed? Absolutely.
And I reveled in it.
Mom’s face always scrunched up when I’d work the rubber clogs off of my feet to reveal that day’s mess.
It was like a tiny act of rebellion: intentionally bringing out some ire and disapproval, that thankfully faded after a few minutes.
She’d bring out this little bucket filled with warm water, and I’d spend a Hannah Montana episode soaking and scrubbing, a little sad to see the muck wash away.
Do you remember when you liked getting dirty?
When rolling around in the grass or jumping in puddles was an indulgence?
I miss the innocence of those days, not from lack of maturity or experience, but from truly free time—if there is such a thing.
There was no pressure of needing to be productive.
Disregarding the few responsibilities I did have, like an hour of homework and a couple of chores, I felt free to do as made me happy.
But these days, it’s like I can’t do anything for the sake of enjoyment but only if I get something out of it—a literal product, a line for a future resumé, something to put on social media for clout.
My impulse is to say this is a capitalism thing
And I stand by that impulse.
When a person’s value is based on the money they make or have, of course it’s hard to do unprofitable things for fun.
And doing things that make you waste time and/or money?
No wonder I feel guilty about making messes! Even productive ones, like the aftermath of a painting session, aren’t just a waste of time, but a betrayal of potential.
Anything I do instead of or in opposition to making money makes me feel so awful because our society is built to value money, not enjoyment.
And as much as I’m trying to deconstruct that school of thought and take the time quarantine has given me to do things I enjoy, this is still the world I live in.
Hopefully not forever, only time will tell.
I don’t get out much right now with quarantine and all
I’m lucky enough to have a nice patio and yard where I can get some fresh air and sun every day, weather permitting.
I rarely wear shoes out there.
It feels like a tiny act of rebellion.
