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Take
time, remember childhood
By Jamie
Chen
When I was about four years old, I used to
think that I lived in a big chunk of Swiss cheese. This was so because
I had marked huge dots on my night-light. Like most other kids,
I had a stowaway imagination.
I was never found in any sort of mischief, however. All I ever did
was mix rice with flour, make etchings on the house walls with keys,
turn my bed upside-down every once in awhile, color the piano keys
with crayons, and expose the films containing family pictures.
There was this time when my twin sister and I awoke the dawn by
smashing all the Christmas tree ornaments against the sliding door.
Our plan foiled, however, when Jennifer, my twin sister, was found
sticking out from under the tree. She was my faithful follower,
and I was, of course, a complete saint.
Now that I am journeying into adulthood, I occasionally take momentary
overviews of my childhood. Not much has changed, really. There is
still the ongoing required life: the schooling, the lessons in relationships
and the experiences.
But I still have the progressive story that I have added on to since
my childhood. Here's a slice of my childhood imagination: Ramona
is selling soy sauce packages for 50 cents at her lemonade stand
while aliens are sending paper chains down her chimney. She and
her hamster, Hamilton, are taken hostage while the soy sauce market
is undertaken by some of the aliens' relatives. It comes down to
this present day that Ramona's buddies are trying to save her by
snaking a garden hose into her house, but the hose has a cucumber
nozzle. Thus, the story gets more complicated than it really should
be.
But anyway, I digress.
In college I do still have those random cases of silliness. My silliness
though, has taken a new twist. It is still doused with ingredients
of weirdness, but it more portrays me as if I am trying to have
fun and be a kid again. While being like this, I've realized that
if I give a big grilled cheese sandwich (smile) to a certain friend
of mine, all of my dishes and utensils will go on his tray and he
will put it away for me. (To that certain friend: this is a smooth
tactic of mine, so if you're reading this section please cover your
eyes until the next paragraph.)
I also realized that while I have my own personal oddities, so do
others. While I make my ostrich noises, a friend of mine will sound
like a sheep or a donkey. Sometimes I can't tell the difference.
Another friend will blubber like a baby until he gets his peanut
butter and honey toast. Another will kiss his food and shoot off
words like, "risqué," "incorrigible" and "extemporaneously." This
is done to impress either God or the female species. I think it's
probably God since he's been telling Him (through the food) how
he's trying to get rid of me by calling the "wah-wah-wahmbulance."
So, what is the gist of this you may ask? The pivotal point is that
the next time you catch yourself playing hide and seek behind a
library bookshelf with someone else, remember that it's okay to
release that child inside of you. While some of us may be stranded
against this ongoing tide of adulthood, you should take some time
off. Build yourself a boat with your imagination and sail with others-all
children at heart. Go laugh and have a good time.
You can join me as the stories of our childhoods continue. Oh, and
by the way, if you're reading this and you're an alien, Ramona would
really appreciate it if she got all her soy sauce packages back.
Just return them to my CPO box.
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