A couple days late on this tangible reflection, but that’s okay. New Year’s posts are some of my favorites to write just because they give me a great excuse to go down the nostalgia rabbit-hole that is this blog.
When I look back at the person I was almost four years ago, I want to curl up in a corner and sob.
This is mainly because I used to be a weird little child. Not the kind of weird I am now (because let’s face it, I’m a total weirdo). This kind of weird was more of the embarrassing kind, y’know?
Right up there, above those three little star-thingies, are a few sentences I wrote about two months ago. I was trying to draft up a post but couldn’t come up with anything past what you see right there. Today, I was struggling a bit for inspiration, so I decided to go through my old drafts to find an idea.
I found this, and it got me thinking.
As I’ve said so many times before, things change. People change, too, myself obviously not excluded. Even over the short course of a couple months, a lot can become different, and for me, the previous situation sometimes becomes embarrassing.
I’ll look back and cringe horrifically at the way I acted around new people a year ago. I’ll remember my opinion on llamas in the sixth grade and shudder because I was seriously obsessed (don’t get me wrong, llamas are totally rad, but it was getting slightly unhealthy back then).
But sometimes old memories can turn out to be absolutely fantastic.
I have this weird obsession with old stuff.
I realized this when I went with my mom and my sister to this little shop in downtown. Well, actually, to be honest, I’ve kinda known it since I was a wee munchkin- I’ve just started embracing the weirdness now.
I’ve been a bit of a packrat since I was a little kid (just ask my mom). Whether it was an oddly-shaped box or a piece of string, I would stash it away in my room. And now, maybe four or five years later, I’m still finding little items from when I shoved them in the corners of my bookshelf or drawer.
Anywhoozals, my family and I were in this quaint little place that was like an art studio and gallery smushed into one. As soon as you walked in, there were multiple tall table-counter-things that had typewriters on them. There were stacks of paper next to these typewriters, and I just immediately had the urge to type on them.
I’ve found that I have this thing where I just get really excited about old vintage-looking stuff. Somehow typewriters, quills, and old cameras with real actual film in them make my imagination open up in different ways than it does with my computer. Maybe it’s because I start to feel like I’m in stories like Harry Potter where they write on parchment, or that I’m like Lemony Snicket in the way he writes the story of the Baudelaires on a typewriter. I don’t even know for sure, but old stuff gets me inspired.
What are some strange things that inspire you?
It wasn’t just a summer. It was the summer.
2011, the year I would go into the sixth grade. It was that time where I was absolutely, completely, positively oblivious to everything happening around me in the world. Those days when my biggest worries were what I would be eating for lunch and who I could have a “play date” with next. The idea of actually having to do WORK to get far in life was pretty foreign to me, and I wasn’t at all worried about middle school.
It was that summer that was the start of something big.