I’m not sure if today was a productive day or not. I woke up this morning not really sure with what to do with the day, so I started off with the basic morning rituals: eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, then taking a shower. After that I had a whole day ahead of me, but I was feeling way too lazy to do anything.
I’ve already been working on the outline for the book Obs’ and I are publishing, and I made sure it was already basically done before I went to sleep last night. This morning all I had to do was reread through it to make sure everything was in place, and then I sent it off to Obs for approval. With nothing else to do, I went to the living room.
I picked up my new tablet laptop I got recently and started playing around with it. Man I love this machine so much even though I barely use it. I don’t use it so often right now because the machine still has an old hard disk drive which is unbearably slow. I ordered a new SSD for it and I’ll start using it possibly as my main machine once it arrives. I like this laptop so much that yesterday, I ordered a second one for $330 so my dad could also have one.
I started painting on the tablet laptop. The painting I made on the machine was a really crappy watercolor of the night sky in the style of Vincent Van Gogh. The problem is that I didn’t really know what I was doing, I had no idea how to paint anything except for generic bad looking landscapes and skies. It was frustrating when I wanted to draw a tree with curly branches but no matter what I did, it just didn’t look right.
I blamed my frustration on my inability to draw and retreated to my room. There was a book I had on drawing called Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain that I had owned for a while, but never even read a single page of. I read through the introduction of the book and my mind was blown because it affirmed all the ideas I had on drawing. I had already known for the longest time that drawing was a skill that had to be acquired, not earned from birth.
When I told Obs that I couldn’t draw, she just said I needed more practice. I think Obs would fully agree with me then that drawing is a skill earned through studying and practice, not through talent. In real life though, I’m often with groups of people, and sometimes the conversation moves to drawing. It is so frustrating when one person says “yeah I’m able to draw because I’m so talented” and tells their personal stories about it, because it causes other people who haven’t learned that skill to sympathize and tell their own stories of why they can’t draw.
The book talks about that very same scenario that I’ve already encountered at least twice within the past two years. The book then talks about how once you learn how to draw, you never forget. The author compares it to reading, riding a bicycle, or driving a car. You have to go through some pains to learn the separate skills involved in drawing, but once you learn, you never forget.
I remember my first time learning how to read, I was maybe 6 or 7. By the time I reached first grade, I still didn’t know how to read. People tried teaching me, but I just never retained it, I don’t think I even knew what any of the letters were. During one of the first few days of school the teacher handed out these easy books for us to read. I opened the book up and I stared at the page. I still remember this view vividly; the book was open in front of me, the left page was blank, the page on the right had a black ink drawing of a frog in a lake, a title above it, and below the image was this crazy wall of symbols.
I had no idea what the symbols meant. The teacher said something like “Okay class we’re going to begin by reading this page slowly.” I became extremely agitated by this phrase because I had no idea what was on this page. I started looking around me frantically and started shouting “What?! What is this?!?! I don’t understand any of it!!” everyone in the class was looking at me.
I started crying frantically, something I did very frequently back then and that all my relatives love telling stories of, my vision becoming blurred by the tear droplets as I went up to the teacher’s leg. I wrapped my arm and legs around her shin and ankles and sat on her feet. She was able to walk around with me dangling like this and the entire class was hysterically laughing at what was unfolding. The teacher walked to the principal’s office with me dangling from her leg and the principal made me sit on this chair.
I still remember all the feeling and excitement from that day. I sat there in that chair, it was a dark room, and I was crying frantically gasping for breath being unable to breathe. I had a long talk with the principal, I don’t remember what the talk was about or what the principal looked like or their gender. My parents were called in and picked me up. The next day I was moved down a grade to Kindergarten in which I remember the first lesson – it was coloring letters of the alphabet. I was coloring a large letter A that took up an entire piece of paper, and I met some new friends in that class on that day.
The crying and the wrapping my arms and legs around an adult’s lower part of their legs was something I did often as a kid. Like I said, my relatives tell me all these hundreds of stories about me doing it, and I remember doing it to almost everybody. I think I cried every day maybe, my parents could not leave me at any daycare because I would throw tantrums, climb over furniture, and cry and scream the entire time whenever my parents were out of view.
From 3rd grade through 6th grade I think I would cry almost every day at some point in class. I was known for that. Through middle school I didn’t cry as much, but I still did. In high school it died down even more but I still cried. By the time I got to college I don’t think I cried once. And now I don’t remember the last time I cried. When adults cry, it’s because they’re depressed or sad. I cried publicly from the slightest agitations sometimes at will, it was a natural skill I had as a baby that I retained through getting older. Now I don’t have it anymore. It sounds hard to believe, but ask any relative or classmate I had in elementary school, people have their stories to tell.
Oh yeah. This one is hilarious. Two friends in 4th grade were just like, to each other, “hey watch this” and then one of them said to me “Megg you’re stupid” and then the just stepped back to see the sprinklers go off. They started laughing and told me they were just joking. I started laughing with them too and stopped crying. It was so easy.
This is the next day. I fell asleep while writing this entry last night, I guess my stories just seemed to drag on and on. There are so many ideas and thoughts I would have still liked to have expressed last night, but I was very tired in writing about them. I will post them in Day 50’s entry.
Nothing else really happened, I talked with Obs again before going to sleep and we had a long and meaningful conversation. She said that even though she doesn’t say it often, she wanted to let me to know that she really appreciated our friendship together. I really appreciate our friendship too but I wish she would let me know more often. Shout out to Butteryfly of Scorpion for offering to assist us in the book we’re working on together! Again I’ll probably repeat this paragraph in more detail in Day 50’s entry. I’m at work now and probably shouldn’t be working on yesterday’s entry anymore.
Selfie for the day