Still Children at Heart?

    I sleep like a baby on Christmas Eve now, when I used to roll around in my bed for hours as a child. It was my birthday recently, and most of the day I’d forgotten unless reminded by a cheery “happy birthday!” in the hallways, but I remember when I used to think in my head, “I can’t believe it’s my birthday,” at least fifty times that day. What used to feel like forever is only 20 minutes now; the small fidgets explored in waits of restlessness now pass by unnoticed. Does the magic of our childhoods vaporize as we mature? Until you are well into adulthood and the exterior is shaped for societal acceptance? I do think that a sort of childlike spark is somewhat suppressed over time due to pressures to fit in and “grow up.” In The Mezzanine, Baker reveals a commonality of human nature, redrawing fascination to the unimportant and highlighting an innate curiosity. 
    Throughout basically the entire book, I was reminded of the fantastical magnification and appreciation I more often experienced as both an easily bored and easily entertained child* of now seemingly meaningless objects. To me, Baker’s usage of the “clean background trick” to glorify everyday appliances represented a hyperfixation or easy fascination I would have on random things all the time as a child. The magical floating of a balloon, almost otherworldly, or the glimmering swirl of colored marbles that incentivized me to join my friends’ game of mancala, even though I didn’t know the rules, all feel like memories reborn as Baker exposes Howie’s complete and unfiltered mind. At the same time, Howie displays relatable pressures in fitting in, his social awareness shining through in his inner thoughts, and supporting the evolution of the image we put on our outsides as we grow increasingly aware of what’s expected of us—the tendency to put on a serious exterior so that we are, well, taken more seriously.
    Though Howie maintains some of our youthful playfulness, the key is that we only know this from his internal dialogue. The games we used to play have retired to our minds, hiding behind a face of nonchalance. On Howie’s escalator rides, he plays the solitary game of seeing if he can complete the journey without another person stepping onto the conveyor system, an activity so involved he experiences “a state of near hysterical excitement,” while keeping a calm composure on the outside (Baker 59). It reminded me of how, when I stroll along the sidewalk, I sometimes try to avoid as many cracks as I can while maintaining my average walker look. Or when I ride the MTD, I stare at the carpeted seating, trying to identify as many patterns as I can, my pride growing with each discovery as if it signifies hidden genius. I know I am not the only human who plays these little games in their head, but in these moments I’ve wondered if anyone else in my vicinity is indulging in similar trivial thoughts, or if I am alone. 
    As I’ve begun looking towards my future after high school, I’ve had a lot of opportunities for self-reflection and have found myself reminiscing much more than I used to. Though I’m only 17 and still a kid, I miss my childhood. Sometimes I feel like it disappeared before I even had the chance to realize I was in it. I’m taking a more informal approach for this post, and if you have made it to the end, I was wondering if you have any thoughts on this? Of course, you can comment on my very smart and interesting analysis of Baker’s writing. Still, I think reading this book has also led me to think a lot more about life in both the vastness and smallness of it, and I’m curious to hear how others my age are experiencing this transitional period of our lives. _______________________________________________________________________________

*Sorry, I don't know how to do footnotes on Blogger, but I think this substitute is pretty intuitive? This wasn’t even planned, but I genuinely had a side note realization while writing– isn’t it kind of interesting and paradoxical that in our youth we are both more easily bored and easily amused? 5-year-old Charlotte's attention span could’ve probably withstood like 10 minutes of drawing (which I could do for hours now), but touching sand for half an hour (which I think I’d now get bored of much quicker).
 
Baker, Nicholson. The Mezzanine. Grove Press, 2010.