Hella introspection
I'm turning 18 in a couple of weeks. It used to sound like a milestone-- a Magic Number. It doesn't really feel like that at all. It's just another year. But, looking at myself and my life thus far, I've come across a problem that I think ought to be addressed before I get to that Number.
My imagination is out of shape. It's a fat, lazy blob that's been collecting dust.
I tried to color a picture today. (Come on. I'm sick, it's really hot outside, and there was a box of crayons by my bed.) And, to my surprise, it was extremely difficult. It was like I was out of practice-- after all, I hadn't sat down to color in years.
You would think that all of those easy little tasks that they gave us to do in kindergarten-- coloring, playing with play-doh, gluing popsicle sticks together-- would stick with us for life. Apparently, they don't. It's amazing how we were once capable of so much without ever thinking twice about it.
I miss that.
Maybe the problem is perfectionism. When I sat down on the bed with my paper and 24-pack (which was SO not as cool as that 64-pack with the built-in sharpener), I stared at the page blankly for at least ten minutes without making a single mark. It was because I didn't have an idea in my head, and I guess I was afraid of it looking "wrong." Why couldn't I jump right into it like I used to? Why did I feel the need to sketch it out in pencil first? Why does yellow no longer seem like an accurate substitute for peach?
I got some great advice last night: "It's expected that you'll make mistakes your freshman year. You're supposed to mess up. As long as it's nothing huge, don't get too bent out of shape."
I guess that error might be the kind of exercise that our imaginations need. Too many of us assume that as we get older, we're supposed to grow wiser, and that wise people don't make mistakes. We need to remind ourselves that the wisest people are those that acknowledge the fact that they are bound to mess up at one point or another, and when they do, they learn from it. The fact is that once we stop making mistakes because we're too afraid, we stop growing.
My advice to anyone reading this: revisit your childhood every once in a while, even though it may have already passed. To waste so many years of lesson-learning by putting them behind you would be foolish. Take out that box of colored pencils and see what you can do with them before you can't bring any of it back.
My imagination is out of shape. It's a fat, lazy blob that's been collecting dust.
I tried to color a picture today. (Come on. I'm sick, it's really hot outside, and there was a box of crayons by my bed.) And, to my surprise, it was extremely difficult. It was like I was out of practice-- after all, I hadn't sat down to color in years.
You would think that all of those easy little tasks that they gave us to do in kindergarten-- coloring, playing with play-doh, gluing popsicle sticks together-- would stick with us for life. Apparently, they don't. It's amazing how we were once capable of so much without ever thinking twice about it.
I miss that.
Maybe the problem is perfectionism. When I sat down on the bed with my paper and 24-pack (which was SO not as cool as that 64-pack with the built-in sharpener), I stared at the page blankly for at least ten minutes without making a single mark. It was because I didn't have an idea in my head, and I guess I was afraid of it looking "wrong." Why couldn't I jump right into it like I used to? Why did I feel the need to sketch it out in pencil first? Why does yellow no longer seem like an accurate substitute for peach?
I got some great advice last night: "It's expected that you'll make mistakes your freshman year. You're supposed to mess up. As long as it's nothing huge, don't get too bent out of shape."
I guess that error might be the kind of exercise that our imaginations need. Too many of us assume that as we get older, we're supposed to grow wiser, and that wise people don't make mistakes. We need to remind ourselves that the wisest people are those that acknowledge the fact that they are bound to mess up at one point or another, and when they do, they learn from it. The fact is that once we stop making mistakes because we're too afraid, we stop growing.
My advice to anyone reading this: revisit your childhood every once in a while, even though it may have already passed. To waste so many years of lesson-learning by putting them behind you would be foolish. Take out that box of colored pencils and see what you can do with them before you can't bring any of it back.