Growing up is never an easy thing to accomplish. Not even years should be the notation of how old one is. It's the amount of years inside the human mind that make us age.
Scooby-Doo
When I was young, Scooby-Doo and his crew of "meddling kids" were my best friends. When I was alone, they were my comfort and entertainment. When my mother was gone all day at work, or where ever she was at the time, I was hanging out with my best pals.
Birthdays, Christmas' never held much of a surprise to me. I always knew what was behind that beautiful, crinkly colored paper. And I was always right. Scooby-Doo stuffed animals, Scooby-Doo jewelry, Scooby-Doo board games, pillow cases and blankets. And on a good day, my mother would even bring home a box of Scooby-Doo fruit snacks. He was my animated model. Well, for a while that is.
I soon figured out that every ghoul, ghost or creature was just a normal human being. Someone that wanted something. There was no supernatural creature. No scary, wicked beast. I began to become bored-- lonely even.
My friendship began to fade.
PowerPuff Girls
Not long after my infatuation with Scooby-Doo had sizzled out, I had discovered something new. Something that every young girl dreamt of-- the abnormal.
I watched with fascination as they zoomed about in the skies and had always thought how it would be amazing, electrifying to fly. Or how they could punish those who have done wrong and be praised for it.
I often pretended I was one of the Powerpuff Girls; running around on the playground with two of my class peers. We thought we were unstoppable. We'd run from one side of our pretend village to the other side, our hair whiplashing our face, the adrenaline of how fast our feet were carrying us, our hot rapid breath. I loved the feeling of the wind through my small fingers. I loved feeling as if I could fly or be more than what I was, really.
As I grew, I learned that I'd never learn to fly and my love for the Powerpuff Girls died out.
Dragon Ball Z
At seven or age eight my agenda was very simple. I went to school and then came home and watched my favorite animated television show while eating almost an entire bag of nacho Dorito chips. Although I did this quite frequently, my mother never approved.
This show consisted of violence, power and adventure. I was in bliss. A day wouldn't go by without watching my favorite cartoon.
This obsession ended in about a year. That was when the re-runs started and became it had become inattentive.
Courage the Cowardly Dog
I had always found the strange to be of interest.
I was skipping though channels one day and came across what seemed to be a rather odd cartoon. The main theme of this cartoon was about the love a dog has for his owner. Courage was his name, though now I realize how ironic that placement was-- Considering that he was afraid of just about everything.
Courage the Cowardly Dog conformed of the most bizarre occurrences. Be it ghosts, giant bugs, killing cats or other killing creatures, to an evil, singing goose, or sand whales, this animated television show always had me on edge. It never stayed constant and I admired every moment of it.
The thrill of something other than reality. The natural curiosity that clung to me like a backpack.
I don’t recall when I had lost this backpack, but I’m sure it wasn’t long after I contrived that there was nothing other than the dull-validity of the human race. There were no legendary brutes, beasts, or creatures. No magic and dancing daisies.
I suppose that everyone needs to grow up someday, though I’m still waiting for that day to come. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of a departure to a land much different than this one. A land where there is no strife or grief-- and magic flows like a stream.
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