Random Firing from 7th Grade

June 25, 2008

Sitting at my writing/drawing desk is exhausting. Fun but tiring. I love to write and draw but it takes a lot out of me to do it since it’s an engrossing task. I work with my whole body, even shaking my legs up and down when drawing a guy running away from a monster.

I’m drawing a kid running from a skeleton horse for my next graphic novel and I has a sudden memory dumped into my conscious from when I was in seventh grade. So I’m drawing a comic then I’m in the aisle of a toy store twenty-eight years ago. I’m looking at Micronauts, I can’t tell which ones because that part of my memory didn’t come back. Just my point of view, which is weird because I’m 6′ 8″ but in 7th grade I was well under six feet tall so I’m looking around at a much shorter height than I’m used to.

That memory only lasted for a few seconds and it was the time it took for me to draw the sweep of a kid’s arm on my computer. What struck me was that I hadn’t thought of that moment in that mall toy store since I experienced it in 1979. This kind of random memories coming back happens all the time, yet I can barely remember my own phone number I’ve had for six years. I can barely remember my daughter’s birthday, but I remember seeing the map of her pores as her face breached the C-section operation six years ago.

I have a theory about my random memory firing this morning…I’m listening to a mix band called GIRL TALK and they have a song that samples a chunk of September (1978) by EARTH, WIND AND FIRE. It’s possible that the song was going through my head while in the mall 28 years ago or it might have been piped into the store.

So, um, that’s all.


7 Responses to “Random Firing from 7th Grade”

  1. alterna180 Says:

    i was born that year. it’s strange to imagine my own self inside a womb while a thousand miles away a young tennapel looks at toys, and then decades later i would read his blog. haha

  2. tennapel Says:

    Alterna, I like the way you think. I often wonder if every move was predestined…like since the beginning of time nothing could stop you from being in the womb and eventually reading my account of what was happening in a mall thousands of miles away.

    But now I’ve passed on knowledge of an event that you carry with you. In all probability you don’t have a lot of knowledge about what was going on the year you were born and now you have this trivial event stuck in your head of what I was doing in a mall. You can’t get rid of that thought for the most part. It’s stuck in you.

    Another layer has been added that expands the dimension of this story we share…now when I think about me in that toy store I’m aware of a baby in a womb that is you far, far away. Further still, we both have access to this exchange on the comments of this blog connecting our experiences and putting the whole hierarchy into every reader’s mind. They’re aware of my experience in 7th grade as well as your existence in the womb and the representation of these events on this blog.

    Now let’s expand this web by adding other events and experiences that are triggered.

    I also wonder if any other events could have happened or if this was inevitable. I’m not talking about rigid determinism because I deny giving particles any causative agency, but I do allow for predestination because then we have the divine Causative Agent at work.

  3. Sean McGowan Says:

    Since when were you so open to predestination?… But anyways, I was dead in 1979.

  4. Will Says:

    It’s weird to me that I would tell you about a band that you would, in turn, listen to, which would then influence your thoughts. I’m in Idaho. You are in California. We are connected by whirring machines and 1’s and 0’s.

  5. tennapel Says:

    The 1’s and 0’s are just the materials…what’s really connecting us is the meaning that makes order of the matter. Not the particles, the LOGOS!

  6. TimBaron Says:

    Wow, what a cool memory. I have found that most of my childhood memories before 6th grade are almost all in some way connected to or easily referenced to action figures.

    K, 1st and 2nd grade-Star Wars
    3rd grade-transformers
    4th grade-transformers, gijoe, battle beasts


    Maybe your skeleton horse guy reminded you of the Micronauts.

    Micronauts were big on horses, they had at least 1 alien character that was half horse half man, and 2 deluxe figures that you could interchange parts with and make them centaur like characters.

  7. Achoo Says:

    I’m supposed to be taking a shower right now and going to work (I can determine what time I go in, by the way.. its just that I have to be done by a certain time so the longer I take on here the more I have to hurry later. It’s not so much a matter of irresponsibility as it is trade-off.)

    Anyway.. I love this sort of dissertation. This sounds like a capital idea for a future graphic novel. If I’ve now ruined your legal ability to use that idea, my apologies. Guess I just stole your mantle. I’ll dedicate the book to you, how’s that?

    Who wants to guess how many ounces of coffee I consumed before writing this post?

    I love childhood memories and whats more I love picturing other people as children. I think its some convoluted notion of an inner child mixed with the idea of us being children in the eyes of God – having sinned but at our core still being innocent and in need of discipline and mercy for our inevitable pitfalls. Seeing those old black and white photos of my dad as a kid, sandwiched between my older aunts with that same dubious expression but this time through the face of someone just old enough to stand on their own – that helped soften my heart toward him.

    I have a random memory from 5th grade (Doug you were probably in your late twenties) of walking to class behind the boy I liked at the time (Jason Hutchens). I remember wearing my moms pink sweater and that it was so big it hung to my knees and that it became my favorite sweater that day because before we entered the classroom Jason stopped at the doorway to let me go in first and said he thought my sweater looked nice.

    My only other memory at this time is being two years old and my best friends mom throwing a snowball right into my face, which stuck to the eskimo-style fluff around my hood and made my face so cold it hurt.

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