Drawing

I once drew a lot. I've always liked to draw.

When I came to Usa, attending high school, if there were any visible form of record, it would be drawing. I remembered the first time I drew on the black board in ESL class. Mr. Costello, my ESL teacher was fond of it. I was drawing his face for that night was parents' night, my first Usa high school parents' night. I said I was pretty good at drawing. Maybe I could draw Mr. Costello's face so my mom and uncle would find him more easily. Mr. Costello encouraged me to try. After I finished the drawing on the black board, Pat came in, and Mr. Costello said I should show Pat too. Pat was a very good artist.

From then on, I draw a lot. I enjoyed it a lot too. There were many things going around me which I felt secure enough. ESL class provided me with necessary shelter. I made almost no friends outside of ESL class. But I draw teachers, classmates, countless cartoons. When I was in my first year class English, we were studying Romeo and Juliet. I draw almost every scenes on the handout from Ms Gold. That was so much fun. The whole Romeo and Juliet was realized in front of me.

So, if I did not have pictures to show my years through high school, I still had my drawings. Until one night, I shredded everything when I was on vacation from college. I forgot the reason. The only thing I remembered was that I was in vain. I was crying and felt worthless. Tearing those drawing was like tearing myself up. That feeling could only be compared to the loss of Dong Dong.

I have a hard time to get into even doodling. When I was in my last college year, I attended basic drawing class. I found myself very hard to concentrate, obsessive in comparing myself to other people, and longing to be the center of attention was so great. Drawing at the time was impossible. After I dropped out, I still draw but only doodling, and only when I am outside in the public. My head is blank when I am alone.