Boring Old Farts.

Sometimes I feel like I must have missed that group-memo coming into adulthood regarding the age-fun, inverted-correlation mandate. You know the one. The one that stipulates that as we age we are required to have proportionately less and less fun; also known as the Progressive Misery Theory. As a keen observer of human behaviour, I’m beginning to think that maybe there actually was such a memo.

So glad I missed it.

Have you ever noticed how boring, intense, predictable, grumpy and ‘unfun’ (a word) some grown-ups are lately? If any of you ever see me being that unpleasant, feel free to slap me.

“But Craig (said in a whiney, annoying voice) you don’t understand my life, issues, problems, history, relationships, situation.”
“Yes, you are indeed unique to humanity, nobody has ever faced the adversity that you have.. . of course you should revel in your misery… if anyone rightfully deserves to be unhappy, it’s you!! ”

Please don’t trip over my sarcasm as you walk through this post but I am sick of grumpy, miserable, Energy Vampires rationalising and justifying their perpetual long face and woe-is-me-ness.

Their shoulders must be so sore from carrying the world around.

Well, I do understand that people with terminal illnesses can, and do have fun (seen it)… and I do know that children living in poverty can play games and laugh every day (seen that too), and I do know that eighty year-olds can be fit, fun, positive, productive an amazing (seen it)… and I do know that quadriplegics can (amazingly) be more productive and have more fun without the use of their limbs because they make that choice (seen it)…. so my theory is that there’s a definite likelihood that your ‘lack’ of fun is less about your situation, circumstance or age and more about your shitty attitude.

Excuse my honesty.
How dare I tell you what I think and what you don’t wanna hear.
Feel free to dislike me.
Get in the (rather long) queue.

Ever noticed how some people always seem to have much more fun than most?
Just lucky I guess.
Or maybe because they choose fun.
I’ve chosen fun.

There’s a notion: fun is a choice.

Lately I feel like I’ve spent far too much time with, and around, the fun police… those grumpy, judgemental, opinionated old farts who peer down their nose at anyone who isn’t like them; mind-numbingly boring, miserable and predictable. They even justify their unpleasant disposition….

“You wouldn’t understand adversity if it hit you on the head… back in my day..”

Whatever Grumps.
Er, Gramps.

Here’s another notion: it is possible to be mature, responsible, professional, intelligent, productive… and to have a truck-load of fun on a regular basis. It’s also possible to do this at any age.

By the way, ‘fun’ is healing.
Money isn’t.
Neither are possessions.

I find it frustrating and sad that so many people seem to rationalise their behaviour because of their age. I am 45, 55, 65, 75… therefore I should do certain things, and not do others.

“We don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing”
How true.

Over the years I have run many camps and live-in personal and professional development programs for people of all ages… and to give ourselves a break from the cerebral ‘classroom’ stuff, we throw ourselves into some fun-based activities, challenges and games.
Planned silliness.
I gotta tell ya… people of all ages love games.
And fun.
And laughing their guts out.
Get out a volleyball, football, basketball tug-of-war rope and watch people’s eyes light up.

Following the games, physical challenges and activities (not the reason they came on the program by the way) people always come to me and say something like… “that’s the most fun I’ve had in years…” When I suggest that they should invest more energy in ‘fun’ (games, silliness) and make it a regular part of their life, it’s like they have a revelation!
Yep, fun; you should give it a go… it’s quite enjoyable.”

Every day I give Johnnie (my right hand man) a hug.
Every day he protests.
He never reciprocates.
I am relentless.
Every day we wrestle (physically) as I do my best to share some ‘Harper’ love.
He resists, tells me I’m an idiot and we laugh.
He pretends he hates it… but he loves the love.

Sometimes I sneak up behind him.
Inappropriate, silly behaviour.

A little spontaneous (or planned if you must) silliness is somewhat liberating.
And healthy.
It’s been suggested that, for a person in my position, my behaviour is periodically juvenile and inappropriate.

Well, to all those old farts… I’d rather be inappropriate than YOU!