Imagination & Gel Pen Books

I miss the days of playing. Legitimately playing. Not just being silly and acting like a little kid, but really being a little kid. I miss giving in to my imagination without a second thought. Doodling and creating such odd characters were a few of my favorite things to do when I was a child. And by doodling I mean drawing puppies made of circles repeatedly. I loved drawing them so much because it was about the only thing I could create.

Apparently I didn't like this shitty chalk drawing. I mean obviously.

At one point I aspired to become a famous fashion designer, creating lovely outfits for beautiful women. Unfortunately, the sketches I came up with were less than sub par. I remember drawing lines of pants, t-shirts and boots over and over again. Then one day I finally realized that I did not have artistic abilities like my brother and I should probably flush those dreams down the toilet. I mean look at this shit. I was not going anywhere with pants like these. 

Although the gel pen looks spectacular, those pants and tank top are atrocious. Don't even get me started on those boots.

I also wanted to be an archaeologist and a marine biologist, but instead I intend to work with dead people for a living. And no, not like Ducky from NCIS, but yeah, kind of. Except I'll be an assistant and won't make as much money. But at least I won't have to work in a dim room. I mean, why is it that every time an autopsy is performed, they nearly do it in the dark. Turn on the damn lights, you're going to cut yourself with the scalpel and miss everything. And Ducky, you will because you're old. Sheesh. 

Anywho, I have also come to the conclusion that at some point you reach the age that everything you did as a child embarrasses you. I no longer have most of the random drawings and writings I did as a young child because when I was twelve or so I got rid of them. "Oh my god, I can't believe I wrote this. This is so stupid." But then when you're older it's aggravating to be unable to look at how creative you used to be. Damn preteen years just ruining everything. It's like I deserved to be ugly and have glasses, braces and a broken leg back then. The only reason why I probably still have this gel pen book that I doodled in is because my grandma wrote it in also. Otherwise it would have been tossed out with the rest of my imagination. 

Another funny picture I found was a list of some of the cast from S Club 7 mixed in with my list of family members. I'm not sure what compelled me to include them on the page. Apparently I wanted to make it S Club 8, because who likes odd numbers anyway? Look, I loved them. Can't you tell by my enthusiastic, yet seemingly epileptic O? 

Before I even began thumbing through this book, I had a gut feeling that a specific character would be in there somewhere. And of course, it was. This here, folks, is a "bubble-head person." Never would of expected that for a name, right? Well, this little fellow had an entire bubble-headed family. There was a mother, father, brother and sister. I drew these everywhere! I must have shown everyone too, because years later in high school an older girl in my french class called me out and said she remembered my bubble-head people drawings. I was mortified. How awkward is it when someone brings up a situation that you don't even remember? The answer is pretty damn awkward. But then I just laughed. When you are a kid you don't care. You draw what pops in your head. And the day I came up with this family I must have been feeling like wearing a striped shirt, whitewashed shorts and some insanely large shoes. 

I found a few sentimental writings as well and it made me stop for a second. There is not a lot of effective communication in my household. A lot of fighting goes on and it is easy to forget just how much I really love my family. Even the simple theme song from Barney can mean a lot sometimes. I must have loved Barney so much that I wanted to write it down too.  

I fight more with my mom than I fight with anyone else, so this was another good reminder to stop wasting time arguing and love my mom instead. This picture is so happy with its butterfly and bow. We need to be happy like that, too. It also gives me relief that I don't make my y's or exclamation points like that anymore. God, that's so embarrassing.

I wish I still had access to my imagination. My childhood imagination. Yes, some people continue to tap into theirs everyday. Me, not so much. My wild imagination consists of me watching too much Criminal Minds and thinking that a serial killer creeps about my house at night waiting to stab me ten thousand times once I fall asleep. Ten thousand times because 9,999 just wouldn't be enough to kill me. I'm that tough. If I were to get my Polly Pockets out, because of course I still have them, and attempted to make them talk, I would not only look like a mental patient, but more so I wouldn't have much to say. I couldn't create fake voices and personalities sincerely without making a joke. I just couldn't. And that's sad because I love those Polly Pockets.

Do me a favor, will you? If your preteen snobbiness didn't already take over and chuck your drawings and creations from when you were little, go back and take a look at them. You might get a laugh and a little more out of them.