Tonight I sat down to draw. I decided to hang out with george and write. But then I suddenly had the urge for smtg less “cerebral” than writing. So i craved my charcoal set. Then I remembered my mom had brought me a bunch of stuff from “home” that has since been sitting in our not-done-office for the past few months unpacked. I just KNEW she wld have packed my charcoal set in there. Flashback to childhood… or shall i say teenangehood. Flashback to late nights of me getting my hands dirty with a charcoal stick. Truth: I only did this a few times in my life. But each time it was late at night; I was up alone; and my hands got dirty in charcoal. And they were life-changing moments. Or I was going through life-changing phases. Either way, if life is about quality over quantity, then I’d say I’m allowed to make this sound a little more serious than it is through words so you’d get the point, so you’d understand how important those nights and memories are.
Which brings me bk to my point: Words. They are meaningful. But tonight I wanted to draw. I looked through the “stuff” and mom did indeed pack my charcoal set (thanks to R – a different R – for gifting them to me many years ago). I said hi to george, turned on my music (angus and julia stone station), and started looking through my drawing pads. Of course there were more flashbacks…many smiles…some tears…the mixed feeling of bittersweetness swept over me…but mostly sweetness…and finally after saying to george again, snapping a few photos, sending one to L, smiling some more, reminiscing some more… I turned to a blank sheet and got ready to begin.
I felt tired. I know. No surprise. This site is called ImAlreadyTired for a reason. I believe I already covered that in post one so I will refrain from trying to re-explain it (or even remember it fully… oh I remember why now cleary… anywaaay you already know why). I stared at the blank sheet and literally felt that pressure/emptiness/silence of a blank canvas. I looked around, charcoal stick in hand, searching for anything I could find. Nothing. A lollipop from a trip to the beach. I open it. Secretly hoping it will give me some inspiration. Non-secretly knowing it will make me look cool either way. Bacon flavored. Interesting. Not what I was hoping for. Hmmm, a bit too smoky for me. But it does feel good, look cool, all those good feelings that come with a lollipop. Except one important one. Ummm, the flavor sucked. What happened to strawberry? watermelon? green apple? Ok, fine, I’d even settle for cherry or grape over bacon. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bacon. But as a pop? Turns out it’s not for me. You live and learn. So it’s all good. But ummm, still no sign of anything to draw? Blank canvas keeps staring at me. Stop staring at me.
Maybe I should write? Maybe I could just write on it how I’m feeling. The thought comes to my mind. In that moment, I felt like writing seemed so much easier. Ironic considering the initial impetuous for wanting to draw was that it would be easier and less “cerebral”. And here I was suddenly craving the comfort of a keyboard against my fingers instead of a stick of charcoal.
That’s when you realize you have to keep going. I’m not a quitter. Challenges scare me. Not in the way they scare most people. I’m not afraid OF them. I’m afraid they exist at all. And here was a challenge: I wasn’t able to draw. So now what? I’ll tell you what. I’m not moving from this bed until I get some drawing done on this paper. That’s what. That’s how I deal with things that are scary. Shit. Is that a problem? Is it a bad thing to run in the direction of challenges instead of away from them?
Damn, I may have just uncovered smtg pretty fking important in my personality. And I did it for free. Saved myself some decent therapy budget. I shld probably think about what this epiphany implies about how I’m going through this journey called life but I’ll leave that for another time. Maybe someday when I re-read this. Will that be tmrw? In a few mins? In a week? Month? Years? Prob mins for typos, then who knows. 🙂 Lezbe real. This bitch still likes to re-read most shit before she hits publish. Shit did I just out that I’m of the female gender? Ah gender… how I hate thee. I don’t hate thee. Just wish you didn’t exist, that’s all.
Oh but do I digress. Eventually I drew. It was ugly first, but then decent, then more and more satisfying. My fingers smudging, blending, creating. It felt good. It was so bad, it sorta made me laugh. So I titled it: Ha Ha.
Then I drew again. This time I wanted to try a new technique. White/Light against a sea of darkness. I used my fingerprints. I used the white stick. I dedicated it to the day. I titled it: 9/11/2015.
After I drew, I suddenly felt my head clear. No desire to write. No desire to use words. Words felt cerebral again. And that’s why…