I love reading creative posts and catching a glimpse of what’s inside the imaginations of other bloggers. My imagination gets wild and crazy and I can think of a few childhood experiences that certainly played a major role in that development.
One example is my love for the 1984 film The NeverEnding Story.
Cue majestic music, bitches:
When I was a kid, I made my parents rent that movie every weekend for approximately two years. Something about it truly grabbed my imagination and expanded La La Land into a vast empire where I am still a beautiful empress with a British accent. I also blame it for giving me imaginary friends (a mermaid and a turtle) that lived in the sewer.*
At night I made up related stories while curled up on the floor in my Care Bears sleeping bag. In my head, I WAS The Childlike Empress and I lived in an ivory tower made of glorious light. I imagined (still imagine, just kidding, kind of) someday walking down the aisle wearing her headpiece:
But with real pearls. Image from Etsy.
Except back then I was jonesin’ for some Atreyu:
Atreyu sporting the Auryn. Image from Google.
Is there something from your childhood that you associate with the development of your imagination? Do you still make up stories in your head as you fall asleep? Have you ever put someone’s baby on a dog and pretended he was riding Falcor? No? Oh. I guess I haven’t either, then. That would be a weird thing to do.
Also, this is the song from the movie. Look at this guy. Just look at him…and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a never-ending story.
* My imaginary friends and I are no longer in contact.
When the bombs went off on July 7th, 2005, I was 20 years old and working at the London Eye as a VIP Hospitality Executive (I provided the “ultimate VIP experience” to famous people, stag parties, marriage proposals etc…).
I remember that we received word of what happened before the public did because we were a possible target. I remember being ready to make a run for it, but we weren’t allowed to leave. I had two jobs that morning–the first was, as instructed by MI5, to tell the people in the area that we were shutting down for the day due to technical difficulties (I didn’t lie to anyone). Then, I was told to search the bathroom for anything suspicious while we waited for the sniffer dogs to arrive. I had no idea what I was doing, but I searched around and tried to look important.
When we were released, I walked out of the building and saw tons of people pouring into the streets. A hot guy I worked with offered to take me home. His car was parked a couple of miles away, so I took off my heels, he took my hand and we walked.
I remember feeling like a little kid that day. I remember feeling confused by the blank look on people’s faces even though they were all probably just as confused and scared as I was. I remember my co-worker having to pull me away when I looked down the street and saw debris from that fucking bus and the blood on the wall.
Days later, I remember seeing posters for missing persons.
On July 9th, we were back at work. I remember reading an interview with a woman who said when she got off the bus, she saw “a pile of bodies in the back.” It made me sick to my stomach.
We all read stories like that in the news and we look it over. We have to, you know? We can’t emotionally connect to every terrible thing that happens. It’s weird. I just think it’s a really weird thing we do as fragile humans.
Thank you Elliot (brainsplats.wordpress.com) for the Versatile Blogger Award. I wrote him a haiku about Baltimore and then forced four scientists to do the same because Elliot enjoys both the occasional haiku and the HBO series The Wire. I wrote the last one. I didn’t give specific instructions, making this a little more interesting than I thought it would be.
Haiku–Charm City Style
W. North Ave, 1100 blk. Photo taken by my friend/the creator of charmcityvacancy.com
Perfume to my dog.
Loves to rub his face in it,
dog park, human poop.
Danger is at hand.
Street-walker prowling about
as I am harassed.
Rushing to our cars,
the thrill makes us feel alive.
Locked doors, safe again.
Scattered chicken bones
stranded along the sidewalks
of west Baltimore.
“Don’t be afraid, babe,”
he says, holding a syringe.
I walk more briskly.
Normally I don’t do awards, but if I did, I would give this prestigious award/shoutout to Madame Weebles because she is a funny, sarcastic, smart lady and I like her taste in hot dead guys. Also, Mr. Weebles is from Maryland, so he is probably a hip dude.
Happy Easter! I hope your Easter Sunday Mass did not involve too many crying children and your egg hunts were fruitful.
Have you ever taken a moment to ask why bunnies, eggs and Jesus are related? Well, this morning I did some research on Easter traditions and got lost in articles about Easter witches in Sweden, kites in Bermuda demonstrating the Ascension of Christ, the Easter Egg Roll at the White House, and the pagan spring goddess Eastre. You really should check it all out later when you’re at home in a food coma (post religious reflection about Jesus and how he died for our sins, of course).
Rabbits don’t lay eggs, so why would our beloved bunny carry eggs? Some sources indicated that the rabbit and egg both represent fertility and new life and were celebrated by Anglo-Saxons during the spring equinox. Later in the 1700s, German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania shared their tradition of the egg-laying hare “Osterhase” or “Oschter Haws.” Their children made nests in which the rabbit could lay its colored eggs and they left out carrots if he got hungry. As the tradition spread, decorated baskets replaced nests and the rabbit’s deliveries included chocolate, candies and gifts.
So, there you have it. History can be so interesting. My sources are below, I suggest checking out the Time link. Have a nice Sunday!
1. Encyclopedia Britannica – Easter
2. History.com – Easter Symbols and Traditions (photo also from History)
3. Time.com - Top 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Easter