May 2013
In a
bout of not-really-insomnia last week, I realised something.
All these years I’ve been joking about people I know with Peter Pan syndrome and really, that’s kind of me.
The ever-trustworthy Wikipedia definition is a little more extreme
than what I had thought– I wouldn’t call myself socially immature and despite
the short hair and ownership of garments to the contrary, I’m also not a man.
None-the-less, when you look at my life on paper, my name is Peta Pan and I
haven’t grown up:
 |
| Serendipitously, a Peter Pan statue is just a few kilometres from where I live in Toronto! |
- I had the elusive permanent teaching position in a challenging but lovely school. I chucked it in.
- I (with
my significant other, Peter Pan) had a gorgeous rental close to
- In December I will turn an age you shouldn’t, living back in my childhood bedroom, broke and unemployed.
Too
close to thirty and not yet grown up? Way past thirty and not yet grown up?
Already grown up and wishing you weren’t? Follow me on my journey in North America as I try to fit in everything before I grow
up (or old!)
E.A.
