The Looking Glass Zoo

During my time in high school doodles were constantly being drawn on the side margins of the class notes. This wasn’t unusual; many people doodled on their notes. However, a teacher saw the doodles and felt disturbed enough by them to call in a meeting with my parents. The doodles eventually stopped.

They weren’t doodles of any teachers, but rather of myself. More often than not the images resembled Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Why it’s considered art on a canvas and a psychological concern on notepaper is beyond me, but there you have it.

A few years later, at the university, these drawings started popping up again. This time I would cut them out of my notes and paste them or tape them in my diaries, which I kept for nearly ten years, and labeled them “The Looking Glass Zoo”.

Ignore the words in those years of entries. There might be a tidbit of wisdom here and there, but most of the words in the diaries aren’t really worth repeating. That’s a part of my past better left buried, only to be exhumed after my death when people can then discover how much of a jerk I was before I matured.

Since I’ve been getting back into art and drawing, I’ve gained an interest in looking back through these drawings and sketches – particularly for some raw ideas that never developed back then. I hope to document these images over time and improve upon them. The journaling is more reserved and in this digital form (the blog), which helps to keep me from writing some of the more libel thoughts and gives me a chance to edit the few I do post. I miss the handwriting, though. That’s something lacking on the web – too much type and too little personal handwriting.

Dear Diary

I really like Rabi Daniel Lapin. Today’s email blast struck a chord on something I wanted to just mention an idea on.

I used to keep a diary. Trust me, it was a scary thing. I’m terribly embarrassed by it, now and have thought of creative ways to destroy the volumes of terrible emotional venting. I also wish that I had kept a journal or diary over the past ten years because so much growth has occurred during that time and some of the wisdom acquired has been lost. I have a terrible memory that serves me as well as an Applebees waiter on Sunday.

So today I’ve felt mostly down. When asked what’s wrong, the only response I could come up with that didn’t incriminate against myself was “I’m not living up to my potential.”

That statement in itself is true and generic enough to let people derive their own conclusions. Life, work, marriage, fatherhood, worship, leading, following, you name it.

Sometimes it feels good to be emotionally drained. It leaves more room for the happiness in the days that follow.