Essay

 

Where’s Waldo in my insipid early childhood?

 

 

 

        Artists Statement: It's an epic read. I highly reccomend it!!! 

 

 

         Call it an awkward transitional phase in my early learning, or a by-product of cartoon withdrawal, but I was still in that ugly, first-grade phase where reading just wasn’t fun yet. Lets face it; books had nothing to do with explosions, sound effects, and rapid-fire, yet carefree lunacy (I hadn’t yet discovered Shel Silverstien). Unfortunately at that point in my career in the literacy department, books had nothing to do with imagination either.
That’s right. All of the other little lambs and I were at the ugly little slump where we were inducted in to the world of Spot, Dick and Jane, and like-minded fodder that littered the elementary school library like so many peanut shells in a baseball stadium. Where the Cat in the Hat can only be read so many times, and monotony lurks even where the wild things are. Where reading assignments aren’t the lightweight companions to homework: they are the homework. Reading was a chore! Reading was a test of my patience! Reading was how the man kept the people down!
           Yet there was one speck of gold in the mire that was reading hour. Consequentially, it was a book that involved no reading whatsoever. Sure Where’s Waldo and its like-minded spin-offs weren’t T.V. But it sure was the ultimate-hi-fi-stereophonic-imax-3d-smell-o-vision experience next to reading Green Eggs and Ham for the umpteenth time.
Although I would soon move on to legitimate children’s books in the worlds of C.S. Lewis, E.L. Konigsberg and, in due time, J.K. Rowling; I was able to blow off countless reading hours on a man hunt for Waldo, Evil-Waldo, She-Waldo, and the wizard guy. It even came with the added bonus that it promoted something resembling educational, so all was good in the hood, teacher-wise. But little did I know at the time that unlike Dinosaurs for kids, Little Critter or Aladdin (the Disney version with pictures), Where’s Waldo was a sign of to come in so many ways.

            And it’s fitting that it should seeing that, just like how Where’s Waldo seems to be nothing more than a book with only pictures for kids to dumb or lazy to read, the life of a teenaged suburbanite seems to be viewed as trivial, if not a complete a cakewalk in the grand scheme of things by many adults. Yet like the book, even “the best years of my life” conceal ample chaos and confusion. Life (or my life at least) scarcely ever offers me any gratification at the top of a Rocky-esque staircase*. It seems to me that all that can be achieved in life never simply comes as a test of will: that there will always be so many complications, distractions, and confusion. Sometimes instead of handing me a Waldo in the form of resolution to my dilemmas or an easy class or job that would make my life a lot easier, life hands me that ordinary shmuck with blond hair and no glasses that keeps popping up everywhere. Unlike the books though when you get a shmuck (Let’s call him Randy for now.) and you confuse him for a Waldo, you often can’t backtrack the pages and recover. I definitely wound up with a Randy in my freshman year when I signed up for Chem. Honors. Sadly for me, I was lost on that annoying beach level of academic uncertainty. In the end, I had to ride out the year (…and nearly fail the class), before I learned how to play to my strengths more when deciding my classes.
            But just as life does not exist without eventual aging and Comic-Book movies do not exist without sequels, Where’s Waldo cannot exist in an elementary school library without some stupid kid thinking (s) he’s a real trail-blazer by circling in Waldo & the gang on every frickin’ page. †† This of course ruins most of the fun of the book, which, in turn, means 55 minutes of me looking blankly into nothing like it, was a Stephen King novel. In a similar way, I often find little amusement in seeking out the pre-circled paths in life, thus I hope to find my own way to succeed in life, and finally carve a new home into the Waldo encyclopedia. Unfortunately just like the last page of Where’s Waldo in Hollywood, sometimes what was once originally though of as the true path of glory just can’t be found**, so I try to always try to keep my passions malleable and look out for new ways to fulfill my dreams in life.
               However the mass confusion of the Waldo books does not just apply to what responsibilities I accept, but how I find friends among the hoards of bystanders. How finding the right people to associate with, like Waldo, is still quite a feat even when I do know what to look for. How sometimes, even then, life hands me another Randy (or even an Evil Waldo); and under the influence of them, and my own poor judgment, I’ve made some pretty bad decisions. † Conversely sometimes a true Waldo can be found in the most unlikely places. Yet, through it all, when I find a Waldo in the masses of blank faces, it all feels that much more rewarding.
             Yet, just like how Where’s Waldo seemed two-dimensional once I was able to find more thoughtful books to read, my ultimate goal for the future is to escape the Waldo-esque mold of living. I would long over my future years is to be able to find happiness in life on a deeper level that can be obtained through true emotional commitment and not a man hunt for better life. I often get the feeling that many people in our societies never really lose the Where’s Waldo mentality behind how live. That they always are and always will be wistfully searching for some new better way of living without being able to be content with life as it is.

 

 

*…And yes I do have the eye of the tiger.

**If any one really has figured out the last page of where’s Waldo in Hollywood please tell me. It’s been driving me crazy for roughly ten years.
† though admittedly, I’ve also been Evil Waldo on occasion.
†† Not Cool!!!