Never been an Artist

I was a five-year-old kid who stared at a blank piece of paper and then looked at the paper next to me and drew what they were drawing.

I had so little imagination. nothing to bring to the paper on my own. And what I drew was never as good as someone else’s. I think I thought I needed to draw what I was supposed to and I needed someone to tell me what that was.

Countless people who have met my family have come back to me and reported, “it all makes sense now”. People who love me and wonder why it is that I am the way that I am. It isn’t supposed to be as hard as I make it. Ever.

I love my blog because for the first time I’m learning to bring my own vision to the paper. It may be wrong and it may be ugly. But it’s mine.

I often imagine this: us being friends, you and i. Coming together and making our existence that much more, just by having shared it with one another.

Have you noticed the days are getting longer? Last night, I was driving down the street I always drive down after work to pick up the kids and all of a sudden I felt completely lost. Where am I? Did I miss my turn? Everything looked so foreign. And I panicked because I had no time to be lost. Not to mention what that must say about my sanity if I get lost on my daily commute!

Then understanding flooded me like a burst of warm sun from behind a cloud on a cold day: it is not pitch dark like it’s been for months! Alas, it’s still too dark to go out and play, but a sunset commute? I’ll take it.

and draw a blog about it later.