Independent Teenager

It's so cute.  They're all grown up in their minds.  The world merely needs to conform to their view.  It should only be so simple shouldn't it?  Sometimes those pesky responsibilities, we, those half-witted parents, have been trying to explain for a few years, seem so real and surprising to them.  And those mean landlords who "demand" payment every month.  What kind of sick individuals would go to a bank, finance a loan, put their credibility on the line, establish credit over a decade or two, clean it up, put money into restoring it into a livable domicile, put an ad in the classifieds for "house/apartment for rent", and then "demand" their money every month?  What kind of world is that?  What kind of world do we live in?  Or the grocery store and other businesses?  What kind of corporation or small business people would rent/lease a building, hire employees, establish a chain of goods/services to come into the building, jump through government bureaucracy to open and run a business, pay taxes on the property and other fees and penalties for running a business, pay insurance, pay advertising, eat any loss that comes with theft and no payment, and then expect us to pay a set price up front or over an agreed contracted time?  And what kind of individuals would expect me to show up everyday, at a set time, for a set wage, with a set amount of required work/responsibilities, with the government dictating what they can and must pay us, and then expect us to "jump through hoops" and "do as we're told" and not pay us raises for doing the same level of work day after day and no extra money coming into the business to compensate for those raises?  Who are these people?  And why are these people, dressed in the uniforms, driving patrol cars, wearing guns and badges, expecting me to respect their authority?  Why does society not understand my need to paint graffiti, as an expression of my art form on private and public property, paid for by tax payers and sole proprietors and neighbors and those pesky "responsible" adults?  Or why do people stare at me because I choose to shave my head or put tattoos all over my body, or pierce every visible and non-visible part of my body, or place big loops in my ears or my lips?  What's their problem?  Why can't I drive however I want if I'm not killing anybody?  Why doesn't the world just try to understand me?  Sometimes, we, as their parents, just need to lock them away in a safe room until they're thirty. It really takes that long for most to understand why the world is the way it is and why we have to adapt to it for society not to decline into total chaos.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe I'm too hard hearted to the free spirit of free expression and "new" ideas that emanate from the wisdom of hormones duelling it out within those young heads.  I just know I'm past thirty and it just seems common sense now.  But I do remember some leather pants I use to wear when Michael Jackson was moon walking.  And I do remember a few misunderstandings with a few bosses I had years ago.  But if only teenagers could get past what I had to learn and just get to the place I'm in now perhaps the world could better conform to my "ideal" world.  But there is a place deep inside where I dream and the throttle on my motorcycle gets opened to the max.  And I just quit work.  And the bills just stay in the mailbox.  It's still there way down deep inside.  But it's experience that stops me.  And it's experience that'll stop them.  Poor things.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.