When I became a man, I put away childish things

A thought trundled through my brain Sunday just gone. As I sat in the back garden with Jnr, dismantling my special edition Mr Potato Heads and cleaning them, it struck me that at the age of thirty (thirty one in 2 & a bit weeks) I have still retained a lot of my childish paraphernalia.

Take for example, my bookcase. Packed with broken spined Stephen King novels, 2 editions of Viz's Profanisaurus Rex, graphic novels, topped with the aforementioned Potato Heads, Lord of the Rings statues, a Lego Jedi and a miniature Mickey Mouse duelling light-sabres with Yoda, it looks like the hoardings of a nerdy pubescent boy. Not, as it is, the collection of a married father of one at the start of his 4th decade in existence. My taste in films has not really moved on since I was 18, it's still the inevitable mix of horror, 'dumb' comedies, action films and, of late, the Studio Ghibli collection. Granted some slightly more complex films & books have crept in but the staples have been the same for 15 years now.

Should I be worried by this? Am I now part of a generation doomed to never grow up? Frittering their lives away coveting the Lego Star Wars: Palpatine's Shuttle, set? I like to think not. The inference that this behaviour is childish is ridiculous. I've seen childish. Childish is throwing a temper tantrum because you're bored in Tesco. Childish is having "best friends" that last 2 weeks, or until someone else gets a new, better Bakugan (google it you lazy wotsit). Childish is owning something for a week & breaking it when you try to push it into the secret hiding place under the sink. Kids are frivolous and fickle over belongings, I am not. I have collected these things over the course of the last 13 years, they are either well used ( the books) or pristine ( the models and whatnot ). I look after my things and use them sparingly & carefully. Some I keep for the memories, some because I find the concept amusing. A graphic novel (you can call them comics if you like, doesn't bother me) is kept not because I'm immature but because I appreciate the story, themes & art contained in them. If you think "comics" can't have meaningful storylines, I suggest you read Batman: Arkham Asylum & Watchmen.

Is this blog an attempt to justify my kiddy shit to myself? Possibly, but in writing this I reminded myself how much I am attached to these things. They are part of me and if others see me as being childish as a result, so be it. If you think that then you don't know me and in all honesty, if you can't see it for what it is, perhaps I don't want to know you.

Creativity, or a Lack Thereof

Some days I question the validity of this blog. For someone with something to say on pretty much every subject under the sun, I rarely post anything. I'm beginning to think that I have a blog because it is the 'done thing' in social media.

I know the reasons why I don't post much, this blog, like my life, suffers from a continual lack of direction. I also want this to be something out of the ordinary, which with over 3 billion websites in Google's indexes must be approaching impossible. Everything I want to say is already being said in more eloquent terms by other people. Lastly, despite my cavernous memory for spurious facts and ability to pare any process down to it's simplest form, the only creative bone in my body is the stirrup (the tiny ear one). The only truly original thing that happens to me is my day to day life, and that would be fine to write about if I trained swans for a living, but I don't.

So, there are a few ways forward.

1. Close the blog.
2. Keep vomiting brain stuff on here & hope a direction appears.
3. Pick a topic and stick with it, no matter how turgid, original or uninsightful the content ends up being.


To be continued.... or not.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.4