The earliest of my scrapbooks I can find documentation of is an actual story book written, illustrated and literally made of scraps by the 6-year-old version of myself. It is surprisingly legible (to me) and insightful.
This is the story of Little BooBoo.
Once there was a girl named little BooBoo but they call her Boo for short. She did not mind, she liked it actually. It was an usual name and she liked it. Kids would say, "Hey Boo, what are you doing?" and that made her feel proud and everybody liked her... everyone but Shony, a boy at her school.
He thought she was a show off, but she was 5 and she did not know what that meant so she asked her teacher Ms. Morgan. She said it was when someone does stuff like, "Hey Boo watch this, I can spell cat and you can't, so ha! C-A-T! Ha, ha, ha!"
"I can spell cat, C-A-T," (said Boo)
"I know," said Ms. Morgan, "but as (an) example. Did someone say you were a show off?"
"Yes," said Boo.
"That's OK if you're a show off."
"It is?" said Boo.
"Yea, of course," said Ms. Morgan, "It's fine as long as it does not hurt people's feelings. Now go to the bathroom, wash your face and go outside to play."
"OK," said Boo.
She went to the bathroom down the hall and washed her face and went outside to play.
She went to the flower patch and picked some flowers. They were beautiful. They were for Ms. Morgan. She gave them to her. She loved them. They smelled so sweet and good. Ms. Morgan said they smelled so good she could swallow them!
"That would not be good for you," said Boo.
It was time to go. "Bog Bog" went the bell. That meant it was time to go. Her mom was at the gate. "Good bye!" she said. "Thanks for the flowers, bye!" and she had a good day.
Now I'm not saying this story has any epic symbolism or awesome metaphors that apply to adult life, but I think it does give some insight into my personality. First of all, I specifically remember there being a boy at my school who did not like me. He was a bully (he probably called me a show off or insulted my Barnie sweatshirt) and one day I spent all of recess sitting at the corner of the playground crying because of him.
On the other hand, I don't think this story was about bullies. It was about me being the most sensitive child in the universe. Not only did even the slightest stern voice change set me into hysterics, but I was also the shyest child to want to be in the spotlight. Even though I was terrified of strangers, rarely talked in front of my extended family, teared up when the teacher called on me, I wanted to be center stage - hence the show off comment.
The next bit of insight comes from the way this book was made. No, my family wasn't living in a cardboard box at the time, I had full access to notebook paper, printer paper, construction paper, and yet I chose to use paper towels, string, tape and packaging material to create my masterpiece. I positioned pieces of masking tape of each paper towel where I wrote the story and drew the illustrations right onto the napkin. Then I hole punched it and tied yellow string through it for the binding. I have always loved making things, especially in a unique way. I am constantly amending recipes or mixing paints to avoid a trip to the grocery or craft store. I like to do it all with what I already have. Perhaps it's laziness or creativity or a challenge, but it's definitely me.
Lastly, this book is the beginning of the tell tale signs of my love for story telling. This blog is the most recent one.
Stay tuned for Scrap Life Part II: A Scrappy 10-year-old.