In 3rd grade there was a book (about a dog, but I can’t remember much else) that resided on our classroom book shelf. One day, I took it upon my self to copy the book page by page. I meticulously traced the drawings and wrote out all the words. I worked on this for days, saving all the pages and stapling them together when it was finally complete. I didn’t particularly like the book. I told myself I now had my own copy though, apparently not fully understanding the concept. To my mother’s amazement, at the end of the school year she found the book in my bag. Her child, a genius, to write and illustrate a full book with proper grammar and a continuous story line. I quickly told her I only copied it and though she seemed a bit confused, the subject was dropped.
I’ve considered this story off an on. What an odd thing for anyone to do, let alone a 3rd grader. Yet, today I feel I have some understanding of it, as I sit at my desk on a quiet Friday. The end of the week where most work seems to cease as everyone’s minds prepare for the weekend. The work I do relies on the needs of my coworkers and thus I busy myself with reading articles on Buzzfeed and the New Yorker and sifting through emails I care nothing about. I have trouble letting my mind focus on non-thought provoking things while I sit idly in a structured environment (i.e. work or school). I have a never ending urge to be creating something, anything. I can’t really bring my miniatures, paints, papers, camera, etc. into work and so I find other ways to feel intelligent and creative on these mind-numbingly slow days. I just found myself writing the quotes I like from an article onto post it notes. I then considered what I would do with those little pieces of paper. Place them in my art notebook I conjectured. But why? I know for a fact I won’t flip back the pages, read them and get anything from them in the future. It’s all just a way to dwindle away the idle hours. To commandeer someone else’s creativity until I’m able to work through my own.