86 - Where the Wild Things Are

Today is a sad day.

Maurice Sendak, the author of Where the Wild Things Are, passed away at the very respectable age of 83.

I'll be honest, I don't really know much about him. But I did grow up with Where the Wild Things Are, and so did, I think, almost every child in my generation. (Probably generations before me, as well.)

I always marvel at the genius it takes to create successful children's books. I mean, look at Dr. Seuss. You have to have quite the imagination and insight to delve into a child's mind after you've passed childhood. Sendak's books, so I've read, often relayed observations about the human psyche. If you've ever seen the movie of Where the Wild Things Are, you'd know that's true. My mom said that movie would be an awesome psychology movie -- not so much for little kids. But it was the illustrations in Sendak's book that made it such a great little kid book.

My sister is a kindergarten teacher, so she's starting to gain a collection of good children's books. It's interesting to look at the new ones to see what the new trends are. It's also interesting to look at the books that were read to me in elementary school. Comparatively, my elementary school days were not that long ago. (The librarian was my best friend and she would let me read books that hadn't even been processed yet. But I digress.)

I'd like to think that I have an active imagination. At least, more active than some. I'm passionate about artistic things and I frequently am locked away in the recesses of my mind - sometimes for hours. But, I'm definitely not a creative genius. Writers always like to think that their work is appreciated, though. I'm pretty sure they all fantasize about being world-renowned. I know I probably would never be like that - I don't even know if I could write fiction. But my sister said something a few months ago that stuck with me.

I've written regularly in my journal since I was 12. I just finished my fourth one since then, and sometimes I feel like I write because I have to. Future posterity and all that. But my sister said that sometimes it's good to write for the sake of writing. Not for anyone else except for you. I lose sight of that sometimes. Like in this blog, for example. I oftentimes find myself writing for other people - I write to receive comments. I try to emulate the professional bloggers out there, in hopes of one day gaining attention. Cole commented it on it, actually. He said that sometimes when he reads my blog, it doesn't sound like me. He said that sometimes I write in the style of other people as opposed to in the style of myself. That stuck with me also.

In order to be a writer, you have to put a little bit of yourself on paper. It's very similar to acting in that every person has a different style -- a different voice. Sometimes I put on an act, to impress people or to make myself feel better. Sometimes I hide from what I'm really feeling. If I write something down, it makes it more concrete. So if I don't want something to be true, I have a hard time writing it down. Just like Max in Sendak's book, I hide from the things that scare me. Love. Fear. Anger. Worry. Frustration. Pettiness.

Maurice Sendak wrote a book that not only spoke to children, it spoke to everyone. It speaks to everyone. I don't want to get all romantic about literature (like I tend to do), but there's something about putting serious insights like that in a children's book that makes them more poignant, somehow. Everyone feels those things, at least at one point in their life. Children aren't alone in feeling scared or angry. If anything, being older is more scary because you know that magic isn't real. I know that someday I'll be married and raising my own kids. I know that I can't be in school forever. I know that I'll have to be financially independent. I know that I'll have to make tough choices -- me, by myself. No one else.

There is a lot of responsibility that comes with having your own life.

I think we all need to go where the wild things are sometimes, so we can know that they aren't all bad. Scary -- yes. But not always bad.

Thank you, Maurice Sendak. You were an inspiration to us all.

You taught us that to face our fears, we simply need to put on our wolf suits and ride on a boat to greet our wild things with courage, determination, and an open mind.

So, everyone. Let the wild rumpus start.

-ka