I considered myself to be of the “FUCK YOU RULES!” school as a child.
Why, I remember when I was young, we were to color in a color-less football outline on a field of grass. Some of the realists scrabbled with eachother for dominance of the brown crayons, some of the hipsters moved with the sway of the black crayons. The surrealists were eating the purple crayons, I remember.
I smeared a red crayon all over that bitch until it ran down into the nubs. Then I drew wings on the side and gave it a horn, making it the most awesomest creation that a gradeschooler could make at any given moment next to stick-men beating the piss out of eachother with severed stick-men parts (which were simply just sticks, but hey- Imagination was the “deaL” back then.) Looking back now, it would look to me now like a rough attempt at a human brain with bits of jagged glass sticking out of it.
If I was aware of it then as I am now, I would’ve concluded that I was either diagnosed with down syndrome or just created the rough draft of a Swedish Death Metal album cover.
Ahhh. Wasted childhood…