Toy Story, My Favourite / Best / Lovely Toy from my childhood - level advanced

My heart thumps in my chest. Annoying, it hurts to breathe, the pressure is too much. Running, fleeing, fearing, and dreaming of what I cannot remember. Consciousness shocks me awake as I sit up straight. Cold sweat cascades down my face like thick gooey rain. To overcome my anxiety I begin to hyperventilate. (The hyperventilation only made it worse I remind myself, now.) As a child at the age of six, I reach beside my bed and grab Blankie. Blankie, a warm tiny cloth my parents carried me home from the hospital in, is always there to comfort me. Blankie is my favorite toy.

“A toy is something to play with, for children, adults or both. They may either be the sole device used in an enjoyable activity or one of many.” (Wikipedia) I always ask myself what the purpose of a toy is. Is it the toys unction to bring comfort, joy, or it just something we need to pass through our day? I read history and see children not playing with toy horses, but riding real horses. I read history and see children not playing with toy swords, but practicing real swords. I see wrestling as combat training instead of recreation, education as a privilege rather than a burden, and children treated as adults instead of children.

Children, as we see them, are different than adults. We, as a society, have broken the life of a child into sections: infancy, middle childhood, preteen, and adolescence. These four stages must be hit before a child is considered a full adult, which is relatively easy because age markers define each stage. Legally a child is considered an adult at age eighteen, but adolescence does not end till age twenty-four. History has given children the right to fight in wars at the age of ten. Our legal adulthood allows us to die for our country.

When comparing the two ages and making an assumption that the ability to die for one’s country makes one an adult, one must wonder why toys are so widespread. (I am breaking character a moment to make a slight explanation: my entire magazine, Car Action, is my article .) The magazine is basically one continual ad showcasing optimal cars and parts. A Q&A section stuck out at me stating that cars are moving away from appearance and into that of functionality.

Have cars not always been about performance? Wait: complex paint jobs, spoilers, giant speakers, spinning rims and other such nonsense plagues the car industry with stupidity. A similar feeling plagues the racing industry “I’ve been to the race tracks, I’ve seen the race tracks, I’ve conquered the race tracks,” this quote comes from an anonymous first place winner of a professional car race. I attended this race, I watched the driver accept his trophy, give that speech and walk off. The same people at that race read this magazine. I know this because most of them had a copy with them.

I look at this magazine and wonder the writers. I am hit by a second realization as I wonder about the readers. Why would anyone ever read the magazine Car Action? Someone ignorant may answer my question; “Maybe they want to know about Jeff Gordon or something.” That is not the case. The magazine is not about big cars, but little remote control cars. It is a monthly subscribed toy magazine. I also have been to the race tracks. I have seen a ten-yr. old hold up the first place trophy and basically say “Vini, Vidi, Vici.” I saw grown men mutter and kick their cars because they were beat by a child. Why was I even there? I like to think that I have out grown my toys, even if my stepfather still has his car.

I do not play baseball, worship videogames or movies. “The sole device used in an enjoyable activity,” well my real car is a toy according to this. My father sells his car and buys a new one every year. In the magazine there are cars that cost $900; my real car only cost $500. $900 without upgrades, which are also advertised in the magazine. I look at my life and see plenty of things that could be defined as toys, but none so expensive and obsessive as the money pit of a remote control car.

I remember the days when absolute fun was rampant. I wrapped Blankie around my neck and pretended I was superman while running around the house. There was a time I climbed trees, swam in the river, and told ghost stories in graveyards. Imagination was my toy and perhaps it still is, but the world needs less toys and more fun. More responsibilities need to be given to the young and expensive toy cars need to be destroyed. Blankie is still my favorite toy, sitting safe in my closet for a day where I may be superman again.

PS. Prosze o opinie, za ta prace dostalem 6
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