Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Day 56: Crayons and Adulthood

What is it about crayons that makes them so appealing even into adulthood? Is it the textury way they feel when you rub them across fresh white paper? The way they're able to make a complete non-artist like myself feel capable of using colors in a magical way? Or, as I'm prone to believe, is it the feeling they immediately give you the moment you hold that slightly rough paper wrapping, the feeling that you are once again an elementary-school-you?

I've forgotten so many of the facts and stories they taught us in school, but the moment I pick up a crayon to this day, I'm reminded of the "3D" boxes friends taught me to draw, the cartoon characters I imagined up and used to doodle, and the still mesmerizing trick of overlaying black upon various colors and scratching out a wondrous design.

Crayons are reassuring in a way. No matter how many electronically advanced toys you give a kid of any generation, crayons will always be crayons. And if a toy doesn't leave colorful marks on paper or walls or carpets or skin or memories, it isn't much of a toy at all.

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