Eyes

So let's talk about emotions, shall we?

This is Timmy. As I mentioned on Tuesday, Timmy was my souvenir from Disneyland in 2008- we had gone in October, so the park was Halloween-themed. And being a fan of both The Haunted Mansion and at the time The Nightmare Before Christmas, I decided to pick him up (along with a couple other assorted bits and bobs).

Let's focus on that name for a bit...Timmy. I think I may have 3-4 different toys in the room all named "Timmy" because it's the default name I attach to something whose character I perceive as being innocent or naive. We'll get to the precise reason of why that is when we get to the most important Timmy, but I find it interesting that a particular name can stir up connections and emotions in you.

Well, to be honest, that's not really that interesting nor unusual, but I wanted a good segue into the fact that I get emotionally attached to things very easily and I'm not quite sure why. Four posts into this blog and I think we reach the basic answer to why I have so many toys in the first place- 'cause I'm too emotionally attached to them to get rid of them. And there are multitudes of reasons for that- intense childhood nostalgia, actual interest and fascination with some of these toys, Toy Story- and I'm sure I'll find instances to elaborate more on these as we progress through my room. But I think for now I want to focus just on the emotional investments- to start with, why I'm apparently a sucker for anything that has eyes.

That's not a joke. It's almost dangerous for me to linger past a stuffed animal shelf at a thrift store because I will inevitably get emotionally attached to one and absolutely have to buy it (a quick look through my room discovered 4 stuffed animals picked up that way). And I often maintain- the simple reason for this is they have eyes. And somehow that renders me unable to maintain control over my finances and I must have it. Lord help me when I move out onto my own and can start buying pets for myself.

I mean, the reasoning for this seems rather simple- eyes are the window to the soul and all that, and having eyes almost seems to indicate a certain sense of life and soul in something- that there's depth and substance and, well, emotion in what you're looking at.  And that allows me to get invested, and inevitably, when I get invested, I start creating a story. That toys' thoughts, emotions, some sort of history. It all starts forming and it becomes impossible for me to ignore it.

I mean, you want to know something crazy about me- and I mean legitimately crazy? I build LEGOs a lot and for the past few years have sorted them out by piece & color for easy searching during the building. Well, whenever I happen to stumble across the odd mis-sorted piece here and there, I find myself unable to put it back, because immediately my mind starts forming a history about how it feels at home here and I can't take it away from its new-found friends and family, and it finally feels accepted and loved and-

It's a freaking LEGO brick.

Let's be honest, that's a little chronic. I mean, I guess I just have this persistent need to create stories and histories, and then my emotional side gets really easily attached to those stories and then it becomes hard for me to ignore them. I honestly don't know why those two things happen the way they do, but I guess that's part of why I started this blog...maybe by exploring some of these stories I can figure out why I am the way I am.

Because another thing that characterized myself as a kid (and to some extent now) is getting super emotionally invested in stories- but often in really weird ways. Like watching Snoopy, Come Home and getting totally sad for Lila because she doesn't get Snoopy in the end. Or nowadays getting invested in a really dumb movie like The Dream Team enough that I watch it to the end despite having figured out fairly early on that this is pretty bad. I always got super wrapped up and invested in films...and in a lot of ways I think that's what led to my interest in stories and pursuing a career in, well, now it's scriptwriting.

So you know what, I'm gonna be a little unorthodox and skip ahead a couple toys. 'Cause the past couple have been a lot of introspection and reflection, and while that's all fine and well, I think it's about time for a break. So come Tuesday I'm gonna look at a toy with some actual stories attached to it, and start to tell a little bit about the past and histories of my toys. A little bit about the saga of Toy World.

I Can't Trace Time

In the weeks since I last posted, my room got completely renovated, with my loft that I've had since middle school being taken down to make way for new shelves and desk space. Because of the extent of these changes the room had to be absolutely cleared out, and I finished putting everything back in a couple days ago. Additionally, my family went on a trip to Disneyland last week, so for today's toy let's pull out a past souvenir and talk about change, shall we?

So to start this is Donald (how shocking). Donald is, as I said, a past souvenir- he was bought at our second trip to Disneyland in 2008. Thing is- he's not actually mine. Well, not originally. My sister had bought him for her souvenir (We'll get to mine on Thursday) and kept him for a while. But sometime in the past year, in a period of major change and renovation for her, she started throwing out a lot of her old toys, the pile of which I ransacked to keep in my room. Donald was one of these 'survivors'. See, I didn't want to lose those toys. Even though they weren't mine, I still had memories and emotions attached to them that I didn't want to let go of. So even though all of those stuffed animals have to date just been stored in a drawer somewhere and only recently been taken out to be displayed on the top shelf in my room (a shelf marked by its inaccessibility, thus reserved for toys that I in all likelihood will never play with), I still didn't want to lose them. And you know what, I probably still would refuse to throw them out.

Yeah. I'm not very good with change.

I mean, as long as I can remember I've always been really resilient to change. I had the same backpack from sixth grade to I think junior year of high school- and I'm still using my sixth grade binder. Whenever I'm buying something like shoes or socks I always go for the same brand I already used- and when it's not there it absolutely flummoxes me. Just the couple of days ago I needed a new pair of earphones and almost didn't buy any because the brand I had wasn't stocked anymore. I mean, I've gotten better lately- this renovation was mostly my idea, and to be honest becoming a Doctor Who  fan really helps one become more content with change and regeneration. But I'm still an awfully stubborn person when it comes to giving up on something old and moving forward to something new.

Part of that I think comes down to how much I tend to attach myself to things emotionally, but I think that's a big enough subject that I'm actually gonna put it off to Thursday (since that'll be a linked post to this one given that the toys in question are linked). But it's also I think that I just really don't like being wrong. And changing in some ways kinda has that implication with it...the old one was old and outdated, here's something new and improved. Something better. I mean, obviously that's not always the case, and usually a change is the search for something different rather than something outright better. But at the same time it almost feels like a weakness to be moving on..and deep down I'm just really afraid of being weak.

I am. I don't like being wrong, and I hate having my motives or values questioned or judged, because I just begin to lose my balance and just feel out of control. And more than anything I want to feel in control- like I know what's going on around me and can easily accommodate myself to a given situation. And in a world that's constantly changing, how is that possible? How can you keep yourself afloat when the water levels keep rising?

I mean, the answer's pretty obvious. You have to change with it. But even with an answer that obvious it still feels unwelcome and at times just scary. Like you're giving up a part of yourself to make way for this new part- and that's not always a good thing. But sometimes, it can be. And I suppose that's the whole point- that you have to just leap and take the chance because sometimes the other side is just absolutely beautiful.

Donald was purchased at Disneyland, which of course has gone through its changes over the years. Heck, my favorite land didn't even exist at the time of opening. And not all of the changes have been good- you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who believed removing Country Bear Jamboree was a smart move, or (to pick a WDW example) that "Tiki Room: Under New Management" was at all a good idea. But you know, New Orleans Square was a pretty good addition. And the Mountain coasters and Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean. Sometimes change can be a pretty great thing...if only for the chance at a new experience that's completely and utterly unlike anything you'd imagined before.