Found a box of my doodles. I could not help but to smile as I leafed through them. Some dating back to High School, others are 20 to 30 years old. Edges torn, coffee spilled on, but I still kept them.
Each one with a short story attached. A memory. A space in time where I hovered not so pleasantly. Art was always my escape, whether through writing or drawing. Or music. I could plug in, and forget the world around me.
When I was about to graduate, my much adored art teacher gave out a few brochures to a select few, to an art school. I had told my mom, my desire to go. She was on board, just had to run it by the step dad. I did not sleep very well that night, I sat up in bed, wringing my hands, as my mom brought it up with dad. He had been drinking, so he didn’t give it much thought, just blurted out “She cant draw!” my moms shocked reply “yes, she can!” It was something that was burned into my heart. I never went to art school.
It never squelched my desire to doodle, I still do so from time to time. When I am inspired to do so. It is one of the reasons why I am here. I am searching for inspiration, and I can feel the well of creativity filling as I look through everyone’s blogs.
I do admit, there is a small fear when I put pen to paper, or brush, and I end up not starting anything at all. I am not sure what that is about, but, I will conquer it. I am sure of it!
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