Art

I remember wanting to be an artist when I was younger. I would draw and doodle all day long, making little pictures with their little characters who always led interesting and exciting lives.
I wanted to draw the world for people; paint a landscape you felt like you were apart of. I wanted to sketch something meaningful, a response to what was going on in my world.
I wanted to make a picture of the world the way I saw it, pointing out the beauties of the little things. The glossy beetle in the garden, the way the clouds cast their shadows, paying attention to the often overlooked things.
I wanted to be an artist, but I was not gifted in the visual arts.

I grew up and could not paint what I so often envisioned in my mind. The sketches I would work so hard on fell short of the goal. It didn't take long before I stopped doodling all together.
I can't paint the world with oils and brushes. I can't sketch the pictures in my mind.

But I have words. I can still let you glimpse the way I see the world. The written word can be used in so many ways. I can still fulfill everything I wanted to with my sketchings and drawings. In a way, I think I will be more satisfied using my dictionary and thesaurus than I would be with charcoal and canvases. I can be ambiguous, thought provoking, or I can be bold, and blatant. I can still accomplish what I wanted to.

I am the artist who cannot draw a straight line.