When you think about your childhood, what image crops up in your mind? Is it Pokemon, or Sailormoon? Is it Backstreet Boys, or the “Oops I Did It Again” Britney Spears? Regardless of how your childhood came out to be, there are certainly some parts of it that you’ll never be able to forget. I for one have my own shares of terrific and humiliating childhood memoirs that have shaped the way I am right now.
For as long as I can recall, I never really lived the ideal childhood life that most kids had probably gone through. I was quite aberrant and peculiar in nature, and probably still am. To this very day, I find no interest in Playstation, Gameboy devices, or Pokemon cards. I had 72 Barbie dolls shared with my sister, their luscious polyester hair I snipped delightfully with a small pair of scissors. Everywhere I go, I refused to wear anything but my striking red sneakers, and later during fourth grade, my worn out blue headband with stars comprised of colorful stitches. I was a walking stick during those years – I found those chunks of beef very gag material, thus wouldn’t swallow it no matter how many times I chew. I remember my favorite dish was plain rice mixed with ketchup. My mother got so anxious about my health that she brought me to a doctor who prescribed me some pills to increase my appetite. From then on, my eating problem was quite the opposite.
One of the things I hated the most during my childhood days was the haircuts my mother gave me. She figured she would be able to experiment on me, and thought that I wouldn’t object. Well of course I didn’t object back then – I had no idea how horrible those haircuts turned out to be until after I saw those years later in photographs! She made me look like a guyL. It was very tragic. No matter how many times I told her these days that that look isn’t appealing, she is still convinced otherwise. Practical, she said. Well, I wished I was cute instead of practical. Oh well, I still love her anywayJ.
Amidst all the terrifyingly humiliating memories that I acquired from my childhood era, through it, sprinkles of happiness also cropped up, lightening the old days. I loved it when my dad picked me up and began to throw me up the air – and catching me in his arms again, of course. Even though I didn’t play those electronic games and gadgets, I still found an immensely pleasurable activity to pass time: reading. Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl seriously brightened up my childhood days; their books are utterly scrumdiddlyumptious! I remember reading one book from the Famous Five series by Enid Blyton each day during the winter break in third grade. Reading is love. I regret neglecting literary and intellectual books during middle school and freshman year; as a result, my English competency and skills had stagnated for a while. Picking up the pieces now is rather difficult, as I sadly have no more time to read for pleasure.
It is quite surreal to know that our childhood days has passed, knowing that we have to go through IB and its demanding requirements. Before we know it, we’ll be off to different universities worldwide, creating a new chapter in our lives. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t hold our childhood memoirs dear in our hearts, nor does it prohibits us to become childlike.
For as long as I can recall, I never really lived the ideal childhood life that most kids had probably gone through. I was quite aberrant and peculiar in nature, and probably still am. To this very day, I find no interest in Playstation, Gameboy devices, or Pokemon cards. I had 72 Barbie dolls shared with my sister, their luscious polyester hair I snipped delightfully with a small pair of scissors. Everywhere I go, I refused to wear anything but my striking red sneakers, and later during fourth grade, my worn out blue headband with stars comprised of colorful stitches. I was a walking stick during those years – I found those chunks of beef very gag material, thus wouldn’t swallow it no matter how many times I chew. I remember my favorite dish was plain rice mixed with ketchup. My mother got so anxious about my health that she brought me to a doctor who prescribed me some pills to increase my appetite. From then on, my eating problem was quite the opposite.
One of the things I hated the most during my childhood days was the haircuts my mother gave me. She figured she would be able to experiment on me, and thought that I wouldn’t object. Well of course I didn’t object back then – I had no idea how horrible those haircuts turned out to be until after I saw those years later in photographs! She made me look like a guyL. It was very tragic. No matter how many times I told her these days that that look isn’t appealing, she is still convinced otherwise. Practical, she said. Well, I wished I was cute instead of practical. Oh well, I still love her anywayJ.
Amidst all the terrifyingly humiliating memories that I acquired from my childhood era, through it, sprinkles of happiness also cropped up, lightening the old days. I loved it when my dad picked me up and began to throw me up the air – and catching me in his arms again, of course. Even though I didn’t play those electronic games and gadgets, I still found an immensely pleasurable activity to pass time: reading. Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl seriously brightened up my childhood days; their books are utterly scrumdiddlyumptious! I remember reading one book from the Famous Five series by Enid Blyton each day during the winter break in third grade. Reading is love. I regret neglecting literary and intellectual books during middle school and freshman year; as a result, my English competency and skills had stagnated for a while. Picking up the pieces now is rather difficult, as I sadly have no more time to read for pleasure.
It is quite surreal to know that our childhood days has passed, knowing that we have to go through IB and its demanding requirements. Before we know it, we’ll be off to different universities worldwide, creating a new chapter in our lives. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t hold our childhood memoirs dear in our hearts, nor does it prohibits us to become childlike.
-Agie
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