(no subject)
In the last few moments of a nap-dream, I was playing with a (unfamiliar to waking-me) male Bratz doll. His story was unfolding in my head and I was thrilled to tell it with my hands, my voice. I had just gotten the idea to make him a plains-style leather shirt with a thick fringe and some beading.
As I drifted awake, I thought, "Well, I could still make a shirt like that." And of course, I could, but that excitement of a story that needed to be told and the proper accessories to help tell it had faded. That was what it was truly like to play, it was pure creation in an immediate way.
I'm glad there's a part of me that can channel that, still. Maybe that's roleplaying for me now, on my best days. But I'm glad I have toys still around, should that invigorating impulse strike.
As I drifted awake, I thought, "Well, I could still make a shirt like that." And of course, I could, but that excitement of a story that needed to be told and the proper accessories to help tell it had faded. That was what it was truly like to play, it was pure creation in an immediate way.
I'm glad there's a part of me that can channel that, still. Maybe that's roleplaying for me now, on my best days. But I'm glad I have toys still around, should that invigorating impulse strike.