People Doodles #5

Went to a BBQ for the Fourth of July that had a whole bunch of people attending. Met some new people who probably won’t bother remembering my name, hah. 

When I was doodling, people would avoid looking at me. For some reason drawing at a public event is weird or something. People don’t like it. They pretend it’s not happening and ignore you if you do that, but they’ll glance at you sideways with that look that says “someone is being weird”. But some people ignored what I was doing while still chatting with me. By contrast if I were doodling ALONE in the park (not part of a group) or at a coffee shop or somewhere, people will approach me and ask me about my drawings and drawing aspirations. Or just smile pleasantly with silent approval. It’s a strange dynamic going on here. 

It’s also funny that people think other people don’t see when they give them the “that’s a weirdo” look and act nonchalant like they didn’t even notice you’re a weirdo. Like, just because I’m weird doesn’t mean I am blind to facial expressions hahah. But I guess they just can’t help it. 

People Doodles #4

Doodled some people while waiting for a friend at the mall. Sat near the carousel so I could draw some children (and because its a PokeStop). I need to draw more children; they are difficult. Their body proportions are all off! Those heads! So big! And their parents dress them in such cute little outfits! Except I ended up drawing only a couple. Feels extra creepy drawing children when their parents catch me…

I couldn’t listen to my music, so I could hear some of the conversations between the kids and their parents. The way adults condescend children so brutally kind of upsets me. Adults talk to children as if they are pets: in a baby voice, or treating every word/action they say with “awws” without actually listening or watching, or issuing commands (“come here, boy!” “Stop doing that!”) without explaining things and getting mad when the children make loud noises, even just flat out ignoring them, staring at their phones. Children are people too! Just because they are naive and don’t know much about the world doesn’t mean they are stupid; not a sheep on a rope, not a kitten with a yarn ball. Why not be a decent person to the thing you’re supposed to be nurturing and educating? Okay, rant done.


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People Doodles #3

I don’t get out much, so I have to people doodle where I can. I was planning on doodling peeps at the BBQ I was supposed to go to, but plans changed and I just went out to get pizza and stuff with Dad instead.

People doodling in a moving car is bad for two reasons: 1) epic car sickness and 2) people in their cars really, really, don’t like being stared at by other people in other cars…its weird. Is it like a psychological thing? People not in cars don’t mind so much, whether I am just hawking at them like a weirdo in the flesh or from inside Dad’s car, but once they are in the confined windowed space of their vehicle, it becomes like an affront to privacy if someone is looking at them, like someone walking in on them in the bathroom. Curious! Humans are kind of weird about things, right? I suppose cars are kind of like people second-bedrooms where they don’t sleep, right? I wouldn’t know, I don’t drive.

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People Watching #2

I did what I said I was going to do and went out to people-doodle. I was feeling really self-conscious though, so I feel like these kind of suck. It felt good to sit in a public place alone, but was also really anxiety causing. I was exhausted when I got home! But I live conveniently right next door to a big mall, so I have no reason to let myself lose the habit again. I think this actually might be therapeutic for my Asperger’s anxiety and shut-in tendencies.

I caught three people catching me in the act, though probably more saw what I was doing. I used to do this all the time back in University, but on a college campus, especially one in Portland, Oregon, its not weird for people to be drawing each other. I felt like a huge pretentious hipster doing it in the mall, but I don’t care! I just forced myself to do it! One lady was nice and just gave me a smile. A young lady caught me drawing her friend and nudged her to have her look. An old man watched me as I drew his wife, but didn’t do anything. It was all rather amusing.

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Lifey Bit #6: Flower Picking

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I’ve decided to just do one Lifey Bit at a time now, that way I can share more, and more often, and not worry over which ones to share so much.


 

I took the bike path to the train station, away from the psychotic drivers coming off the freeway and in the Town Center parking lot. It’s the long way to the station, but it is also the “scenic route” for pedestrians, as “scenic” as an urban setting can be.

The sun was shining, making the cement path bright, except for the one small tunnel the overpass creates, which was dark like a cave. On the right, the path is lined with crabgrass, pink and white wildflowers, and what I think is wild indigo. The sun glows off the yellow brush. The world is a white-yellow wash of ink with dabs of purple. Every time I pass, I wonder why pretty purple flowers would grow in such a litter and cement riddled wasteland, but I really just don’t know anything about flowers.

Once I went through the tunnel and emerged on the other side, I saw a young man. A little bit younger than me, perhaps. Tall and skinny, wearing a heavy tan coat despite the sunny day, and a backwards ballcap. He had just stopped and was looking around to see if there were any other people on the path, just missing me emerge. Seeing no one else, he went into the brush, bent down, and began digging at the flowers there. He picked the pink and white wildflowers, no care for the wild indigo.

I had stumbled upon a deer in a glen! Its head down in the grass, about to snap alert in fear at the sound of my movement! I wanted to watch, take careful steps toward him, take a picture. I was mesmerized.

When he noticed me walking toward him, he didn’t snap alert. He barely glanced my way but his hands lurched a little. He seemed to sag. His fingers took on a slow, clumsy movement, just touching the flowers absently. He was embarrassed, but stopping would prove it. The last person a young man wants to catch him in the act would be a young woman. I wanted to smile at him as I walked by, somehow show him I was endeared, but he didn’t look at my face. Saying anything would have made it worse. I just continued on to the train station.

What is he doing with those flowers now…?

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