Hashtag Yoshi

This'll probably be a shorter one than usual ("Oh no, Justin, please; we love when you talk a lot, please make all your posts as long as possible!" Guys, stop. I know you're just saying that to make me happy) but I'm sitting here awake and this new Yoshi amiibo I got a day or two ago is just staring at me through the darkness as I lay awake. I can see the whites of his eyes even with the lights off. And, uh... the whites of his cheeks, I guess. And his belly and shell and--there are actually a lot of parts of him that are white, now that I'm really looking at him. Huh.

Anyway, seeing my little Yoshi figurine just standing there on my desk looking all adorable (as Yoshi has been known to do) reminded me of something from forever ago. Y'see, I used to actually be very into sculpture. I guess I sort of still am when I have clay at hand. But, way back when, I used to make things out of Sculpey (that polymer clay you always see at Michael's) on a pretty regular basis. I still have a bunch of my amateur sculptures in my desk at home, I believe.

One of the things I remember making back then was, in fact, Yoshi. I think I may have even made some spotted eggs and a Shy Guy, too. I was really into playing Yoshi's Story back then--which is basically Yoshi's Island, but without that annoying, blubbering baby--so it's only natural that I would pick those characters as my reference material.

Anywho, back in the days of being like eight or whatever, I would very frequently bring things with me to restaurants. I'm not totally sure why, it was just sort of a habit that I had. Oftentimes, the things in question were those little sculptures I made--as soon as they were baked and sufficiently hardened to the point where they couldn't be squashed and deformed, that is. This time in particular, I had brought the Yoshi and a few other bits and bobs to one of our favorite pizza places which has since changed names a number of times. I remember it being one of the few times we actually sat down in the more formal area, where they gave you a menu and you actually got a server bringing you your food instead of just going up and getting the pizza yourself. When the server came by, he expressed interest in the clay Yoshi, saying that the character was his favorite one from the Mario franchise and that he thought it was so cool. He seemed so excited about it that I--being like eight or whatever--offered to make him one. It was no trouble, really. I could make another one in no time, and it would be even bigger. The offer seemed to really make his day. I even asked him what his favorite color was, if I remember correctly.

Now, being like eight or whatever, I meant what I said. I'd promised to make this random guy a Yoshi out of clay, and dammit, I was going to! And I did. And it was bigger than my first and in the color he'd specified. When I showed up with it about a week later, he was extremely surprised that I had actually gone through the trouble of making it, though I didn't really catch on to it on account of being, y'know, like eight or whatever at the time. Later, my parents told me that he probably didn't expect me to actually come back with a little statue for him, which I was really confused about. I mean, I gave him my word. Why wouldn't he believe me? Why wouldn't he think I'd be back?

That part of the whole scenario really stuck with me. Many a time after that I remember imagining the look of disappointment on his face when I didn't return with the promised artifact. I thought that I could never make someone feel like that--so hurt and forgotten. It started to make me upset that the average person would've caused that, even if--in retrospect--it was only a small thing that he would've forgotten about after a time.

Then again, I haven't forgotten even after all these years. So perhaps those small things really do matter.

Looking back, that memory might've been an even bigger influence on me than I had previously thought when I started writing this post. Even today, I hate disappointing people. I want to help people out even when it may take a little extra work on my end. So long as someone else's happiness and gratitude outweighs the trials I had to go through to make them feel that way, it's well worth it. And so, I encourage everyone reading this to go out and make their own version of a Yoshi statue for someone. Not necessarily literally, though. You know what I mean.

So, okay, maybe this was actually longer than I anticipated. You're welcome, I suppose. Let that be my gift to those of you who actually like reading my longer posts. There'll be more where these came from now that I'm on break starting in a few days. Until next time!

--J