The assignment for last night was to scribble. Doodle. Close your eyes and draw.
Good Lord. I sat there staring at my paper planning how to scribble. Seriously???
There is something wrong with me. . . I'm just sayin'.
This art thing is messin' with my head. After I finally un-planned my scribbling and just did it I remembered how easy this all was when I was four. I could scribble and doodle and draw all day. It was easy and it was fun. When did I lose that? And more importantly, why did I let it go?
I painted for quite awhile last night and felt so relaxed.
Then I went to bed and had a very uncomfortable, restless dream. It was about my parents and had vivid themes of their avoidance of me, abandonment and selfishness. I woke up feeling very confused and uncertain. As I sat down, still feeling groggy, to write about what I had dreamed I realized that the themes of my dream were the same root reasons that I have ignored the drive to create – avoidance, abandonment of something I loved and selfishness.
Maybe dreams are more important than I have the tendency to give them credit for. And maybe it's all hogwash. . .
While I was painting last night and thinking about all the things I used to know as a kid and had forgotten one of my favorite Dar Williams songs came into my head. It's called "When I Was A Boy" and is such a sweet, melancholy song.
I won't forget when Peter Pan came to my house, took my hand
I said I was a boy; I'm glad he didn't check.
I learned to fly, I learned to fight
I lived a whole life in one night
We saved each other's lives out on the pirate's deck.
And I remember that night
When I'm leaving a late night with some friends
And I hear somebody tell me it's not safe,
someone should help me
I need to find a nice man to walk me home.
When I was a boy, I scared the pants off of my mom,
Climbed what I could climb upon
And I don't know how I survived,
I guess I knew the tricks that all boys knew.
And you can walk me home, but I was a boy, too.
I was a kid that you would like, just a small boy on her bike
Riding topless, yeah, I never cared who saw.
My neighbor come outside to say, "Get your shirt,"
I said "No way, it's the last time I'm not breaking any law."
And now I'm in this clothing store, and the signs say less is more
More that's tight means more to see, more for them, not more for me
That can't help me climb a tree in ten seconds flat
When I was a boy, See that picture? That was me
Grass-stained shirt and dusty knees
And I know things have gotta change,
They got pills to sell, they've got implants to put in,
they've got implants to remove
But I am not forgetting...that I was a boy too
And like the woods where I would creep, it's a secret I can keep
Except when I'm tired, 'cept when I'm being caught off guard
And I've had a lonesome awful day, the conversation finds its way
To catching fire-flies out in the backyard.
And so I tell the man I'm with about the other life I lived
And I say, "Now you're top gun, I have lost and you have won"
And he says, "Oh no, no, can't you see
When I was a girl, my mom and I we always talked
And I picked flowers everywhere that I walked.
And I could always cry, now even when I'm alone I seldom do
And I have lost some kindness
But I was a girl too.
And you were just like me, and I was just like you"