I am so tired of being told that i am too old for the things i like. No cartoons. No toys. No fantasy animals. No bright colors. Are adults supposed to live monotonous, bleak lives ? I can be an adult and still love childish things. I can be intelligent and educated and informed and i can love stuffed animals and unicorns. These things are not mutually exclusive. Please stop making me feel bad for loving the things that make me happy.
Amen.
I’ve posted this kind of stuff before, but it never hurts to repeat it.
I just turned 60, and my apartment and writing/art studio are crammed with toys, stuffed animals, kids’ books, and comics. I have framed cartoon art. I rarely invite over adults who don’t know me well, because they always stop, stare, and laugh out loud or snicker before inevitably saying, “I didn’t know you had kids,” or “Someone needs to grow up!”
My replies are “I didn’t know you had no sense of fun” and “My mother would have said insulting someone’s home decor is a sure sign that they need to grow up.”
These photos are from my studio. In the area by my drawing desk I have lots of figures that remind me of characters in my WIP, and some I just like.
The figures are from Brave, Coco, Tangled, Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventures, Elena of Avalor, Moana, Frozen, Frozen 2, and Spider-man: Homecoming. Plus a random dragon. Sorry for the crappy photos from my cheap phone. ;-)
My Phantom of the Opera music box and some of my art supplies.
My studio’s graphic novel bookcase. The figures are from live action Dumbo, Vampirina, Moana, Tangled, The Princess and the Frog, and Fancy Nancy. Plus one Pusheen and one Hallmark Christmas kitten.
Mother Gothel is disgusted with Pusheen binging on fries.
Some of my stuffed animals. From left to right, Bagheera, a tie-in with the original animated Disney film, from 1966, so dearly loved his felt nose has worn away (I need to repair it); a poor plush cow I found in a sidewalk planter, quite dirty, so I gave him a bath and named him Happy Cow; a Steiff fox; a Steiff cat whose head turns, a gift a family friend gave me purchased in Berlin 1964, after the Berlin Wall went up.
I love these all dearly, and my toys and stuffed animals and cartoon art fill my life with joy. I won’t have anything to do with soulless jerks who think it’s not mature.