REAL MATURE...

Have you ever wondered just how mature you are when compared to an average maturity of a human for your age? If you tried to Google that out, you'd be what I call, stupid.

I don't know why, but I had always wanted to do a post regarding maturity. Not because I think that I am mature, well, maybe a little bit, but because somebody mentioned about this thing recently. And by recently I mean last month, which, I think is about, hmph, let see, three, four weeks before? 

So anyway, the story goes this way. I was having my normal morning. Luckily, the bus arrived like after several minutes of me standing there and making a joke out of myself by laughing to myself, thanks to the sweet technology namely mp3 and radio. So anyway, the bus arrived, me and my friend, whom I shall refer to as Boroy, boarded the bus.

Note: I know 'Boroy' rhymes with 'boroi', but she's none. I just wanted the sound of it.

Anyway, while waiting for the freaking stupid driver to move, I looked outside of the window. I don't know why, but almost everyday, when the bus is fully loaded, as in like each seats had already serves it purpose and was being seated on, the bus will still wait for another, I don't know few minutes, for no obvious reasons. 

The only reason I can think of was to annoy the hell out of the people who was a bit late and telling them straight to their faces that they are, obviously, late. *sad face*

I sat somewhere at the back, and Boroy was seating with her Sabahan friend. I can't really remember who was seating besides me, not that he was any important. Or maybe it's a she. Whatever. I like seating at the back, and I always like to seat wherever there is a place where both seats are empty. I like looking at the faces people wear when the only seat available is beside me and they had that doubtful look in their face and look around for any other empty seats. I feel like saying, "Don't worry honey, it'll be a smooth ride". 

While enjoying my view (read: sad faces of late people), I saw the fat guy. The fat guy. Almost instantly, I smiled, or maybe it's more like smirked. Anyway, my friend, Boroy, she had a little bit of problem with fat guy also. You can just say that the fat guy just know how to annoy the hell out of all the girls in the college. Anyway, since I saw him, I texted Boroy, saying, 

"Weih, pakwe ko dekat luar tuh. Ajak ah dia masuk, kesian dia..."

It was really funny. And what happened after that was even funnier. We had a bit of text-fighting, all thanks to my first text to her. We texted each other, until like before we reached our college, when Boroy mentioned that I was behaving like a child. I told her back that she was a freaking old granny.

Whenever people talk about maturity, I get really worked up. But not the OMG-I-FREAKING-HATE-YOU-WHY-YOU-HAVE-TO-DISAGREE-WITH-EVERYTHING-I-SAID work up, but more like worked up in my mind. I always think that people who thinks that other people are immature, are an immature themselves. 

For once, we can't really tell how mature is mature. It's like trying to figure out the liquidity of liquid. It's stupid. People are born mature, just that they can't see that. I believe that behaving maturely is just a matter of choice. 

Like when you are with your friends, making jokes about other people and all (don't deny it!), don't you feel like you're not acting as mature as you would behave when you're in a meeting or so?

That's when my mind starts to question my (jeng jeng jeng) own mind. How can somebody tell just how mature they are? How can somebody know that they are matured? Is it because of the wet dreams, or because you peed blood on your own pants? (My friend's description of her first experience. Nice.)

Or is it because you can really tell what is wrong and what is right? What not to do and what to do more? Or are you mature when you know what you want and can achieve it yourself, without wanting others to help you? Is that it? Then I think even a 3 months old baby can figure that out. That's easy!

Hungry ---> Cry

Attention ---> Cry

Poo-poo ---> Cry

More milk ---> Cry

Peek-a-boo ---> LOL!

See? Then are they called as matured? Well I don't think so. What I call 'mature' is actually kind of twisted. For me, being matured would be knowing, and embracing yourself for who you really are. Woah, that's deep. 

Well to make it simple, for me, being a 'matured person' would be to know and be yourself. As in like, you know when to behave like a child and when to behave like an adult, and when to be none.

I just remembered this fight I had with my other girl-friend, whom I shall call FS (I can see someone smiling...). She is from somewhere in the southern part of Malaysia, and so was my Mom and her whole lot, lot, lot, freaking lot of family. 

Well, not that bad, but it is often used in a bad way. So, BAD!

But she said that the people back in her place always use it as an alternative for the word 'yawn'. That really made me wondering. I asked around. The only Southerners I knew, well the only three I knew right now was on her side.

All my relatives (read: old people) know nothing about it, but somebody did mentioned that it is only used by younger generations. Which, at the end, explains everything. 

Anyway, because of that, we had like a very nasty, R-rated fight. Just imagine a group of guys, calling a single girl, with a bad word and the girl shouting back the same word. Thinking about it sends me shivers.

Well, that guys, is what I call as a truly 'matured' people. Really.

Well, whatever. You are who you are (thanks Ke$ha) and you are the only one who know what you really are. You actually control your own maturity. If you still think that just because you experienced a freaking awesome dream about you putting in a sausage into a girl's folded tortilla and woke up the next morning feeling all sticky and stuff would make you a matured man, then be it. 

Or it's okay if you think you're matured once you pee blood. I don't mind, not really.

P/s: I know I had not updated my blog for a long time, but then again I know that people don't really care about my blog. So then, why should I care, right?