Doo-Doodly-Noodly-Day

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This is a doodle even though it may look like finished art.  I began doodling with a pencil and she wasn’t a starship captain until I began inking it.

Yes, now and again I have to doodle.  You pick up the drawing tool and a blank piece of paper, and you let your mind go anywhere and everywhere that it wants to go.  Why did I choose to doodle a girl?  Sounds kinda creepy and bad, doesn’t it?  But I like science fiction and adventure and young people… I’m turning myself into a young adult author, after all.  And I like girls… even though I am 60 and my prostate is enlarged and rather dead.  I’m still a guy and I ain’t completely dead.  So maybe it isn’t really so creepy.  I am trying to keep my mind off of you-know-who… he-who-shall-not-be-named.  Yeah, this guy.

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This is truly a doodle.  I drew it in pen in about ten minutes time.  And it sucks (in the sense of a vacuum cleaner) because the overlong tie looks like a stream of blood and I think I drew the hands too big to look realistic. 

Random and open to the bizarre, allowing for accidents to appear on the page (both the Bob Ross happy kind and the not-so-happy kind), able to follow the wandering mind as fast as the hand can capture the flow of images and ideas in the silly old noodle.  That is not only what a doodle is, it is what this essay is.  A doodle essay.

I can do that without making a total poo-poo mess because I have practiced so much with pencil and pen and ink and paper that the lines flow naturally from my fingers.  And I can rely on my constant habit of writing stupid thoughts down to create a semi-coherent essay out of random jumbled thoughts.  Instinct born of practice guides my mind and hand.

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Here’s a random picture of the wall by my bed where I am writing this.  Perhaps it could be called a camera doodle?

Doodling helps me avoid the things needing to be avoided.  The world is ending.  Betsy DeVos is likely to be the Secretary of Education.  A trade war with Mexico will bring an end to much of the fruits and vegetables we can afford to eat.  I am big on avoiding.  You can tell that in my camera doodle.  Christmas lights Mickey hasn’t taken down yet?  Yeah, I’m thinking about leaving them up permanently.  You know, just until the world finishes ending.  My family, as Jehovah’s Witnesses, don’t celebrate Christmas anyway.  So what can it hurt if I keep my one dollar string of colored lights up for another few weeks.  Just until the Russian nukes start raining down on Dallas Fort Worth thanks to the red tie guy.

So there is nothing important at all in today’s blog.  Just doodles everywhere.  But why, then, does it make me feel so much better?  Well, I would say, “Because doodling makes it better.”

8 Comments

Filed under artwork, cartoons, doodle, drawing, foolishness, humor, illustrations, insight, Paffooney, strange and wonderful ideas about life

8 responses to “Doo-Doodly-Noodly-Day

  1. Gosh, you sound so bleak, I’d expect a dribbling bottle of scotch and a limp limb on a bathroom floor in one of your pictures. Is it really that bad? Is there not room for improvement? Maybe even mush-room for improvement (SNL/Aziz Ansari)?

    I like your Trump doodle and did not see the tie as blood. I suppose his ties–typically red–DO appear a bit big at times. But, I don’t recall any image of him with his tie below his waist. Your doodle is the quick sort that would qualify for political cartoons, just enough to recognize the guy and denote a place in time.

    The hands are too big? Ha. Funny.

    It’s been so long since I have felt like doodling. If I am not sitting with a pen and scrap paper somewhere where I would rather take my mind elsewhere, I don’t doodle. I tried doodling recently while babysitting. I couldn’t say the paper I had was scrap. Nor could I grab a napkin and doodle on that. The last time I truly doodled was probably more than seven years ago, at work, taking my mind off the slow shift.

    I have little to no desire to doodle (or “waste paper”); though I have recently started introducing the tots to “doodle challenges” in which I draw a few odd shapes/lines and ask them to complete the picture. That’s how my parents and siblings got me started, many days in my youth. The activity stimulated my creative brain to think outside the portrait box.

    In recent years, I’ve read about and looked into mandala (meditative) art. I may need to try some/more of that to stimulate that part of me that used to enjoy doodling before my practical, “mature” brain started being concerned for the environment, recycling, etc. Ya know…at least until the world ends…if it ever ends.

    Ya never know. What seems like the end could just be one end of a loop…that makes some of life’s discouraging moments even more unpleasant if not mad and sickening…unless we can steer the loop into parallels. SO many possibilities. So little we truly know/understand, even with some people’s incessant pursuit of science.

    • Wow! I am impressed. Your comment seems longer than my blog post. But don’e worry about me. I am on depression meds. I am by nature a pessimist (and a Cardinals’ fan) so I decided the world must be ending because the Cubs won the Series. Then the nameless one got elected Pumpkinhead in Chief and it all went to heck. We’re doomed, but it is liberating to be doomed. One day at a time. Live for all it’s worth!

      • Ha. Yea, I get that, often….

        Meds shmeds. The meds are just as likely to kill you as they might help. Or, more likely to kill you.

        I am not sure my nature is that of a pessimist even if I can be quite pessimistic and/or cynical…among other adjectives thrown at me by those who use fewer words and brain cells. At least, astrology says I’m an eternal optimist.

        I was once a sad football fan myself. I didn’t care much about football til I saw Brett Favre play. Now, it’s less about the team and more about the players. Less about what the media says and more about what I see myself.

        Wait, that’s your initial reason for the end of the world? A baseball game? [And, here I thought you were talking about the Arizona Cardinals of NFL fame.]

        Well, ya know. Some people thought it was the end of the world when Obama got into the same office. Some shouted, “Not a black guy!” Others shouted, “Muslim roots!” And, we got through his term all right.

        On this note, I was inspired to whip up a special and especially cheapy MS Paint comic strip just in time for Groundhog Day.

        Or, is it liberating to be doomed because you believe the end is near, thus there’s little left to do?…in whatever regard.

        And, what do we do with what’s left? What is worth the time/effort?

      • You are exuberant, I give you that. No way you are a proper pessimist. Pessimists are never disappointed because they always prepare for the worst, but they are also quite often pleasantly surprised. And about the Arizona Cardinals, they were in St. Louis too when I was a kid and football mattered. I still root for them , but baseball is a metaphor for life and the end of epic failure (108 years for the Cubs) is as good an indicator as any of the end times. I can be wordy too, but my blog posts are aimed at 500 words because the reader will lose interest after that with most normal essays. Kinda the way you are probably getting sleepy and bored with this answer. I did, however, want to show you that I can use way too many words too so you won’t think I lack brain cells (but at 60 with 6 incurable diseases, I am sure that I probably have less than I did).

      • Exuberant? Must be the font you’re seeing. 🙂 I’m far from exuberant. Check out my weather forecast page(s).

        Well, as a quasi-pessimist, I say expect the worst but hope for the best to avoid disappointment. True pessimists would be like Tuesday from the Addams Family. Someone would say, “It can’t get worse.” And, she would just stare back at the person and say, “Wait.”

        Well, if we look at Chinese astrology or even “the age of Aquarius,” some seasons are longer than others. As of 2032, we reach the end of the “age of rat” and enter the “age of ox.” So, perhaps, these shocking events of current are just the rat’s flailing before his time is up.

        Yes, I have run into the short attention span problem myself since 2007. After a while, I just say F it and write what I feel. I’m not collecting ticket fees to live upon. Heck, it’s WordPress that’s making the money off of loaning you space to vent. It’s like being in the funeral business. They’re just filling the coffins and graveyard plots.

        Nah. You’d have to respond with more words than my longest post or speak like a machine to bore me. I use Ivanka Trump as a comparison. Gorgeous woman. GOR-GEOUS! But, the last time I heard her speak–which I think was an episode of that Apprentice show–she talked like one of those Echo speakers, spewing everything in what sounded like business-ese. I couldn’t listen to her for long. So, I hit the mute button and just watched her pretty lips move. 🙂

        I wasn’t accusing you of a lack of brain cells.

        6 incurable diseases?? And, exactly how long before your world ends?

      • You do amuse me. My six incurable diseases are arthritis, diabetes, COPD, psoriasis, hypertension, and a permanently enlarged prostate. I am also a cancer survivor. So, I am thinking I have ten years or less before the world ends for me. I know of at least one climate change scientist who is building a survival bunker in New Mexico where he expects to die by 2030. An undetected asteroid could easily take care of it in three days time. I am using WordPress to develop my writing skills further and to promote my one published book and my soon to be published books. I expect to lose money. I am not doing this expecting to be the next Stephen King or J.K. Rowlings. Writing is something I have to do because it defines who I am . Thinker, writer, story-teller, fool, former school teacher, father of three, and hopefully, a decent human being.

      • Well, I have arthritic moments, I suspect what is not scrubbing off my skin is a form of psoriasis; I’ve been semi-suicidal/manic-depressive since my teens and have recently been experiencing bladder problems that could be prostate related. And, I have a long road ahead, yet, to 60. So, take that as you will.

        Then do all you can to fulfill that “bucket list,” I guess.

        Wait, he is building a bunker to die in? Isn’t that essentially building a pyramid?

        I could be wrong, but aren’t you the same guy, the only guy, to use that mouse-face you have on your profile for comic creations. I guess I don’t remember you talking about books or publishing them.

        How is WordPress helping you develop your skills? Through typing practice?

        Well, art–I say–defines who I am. But, that art has taken many forms; and, I suspect, as I get older, those forms could yet change. I may have been another form of artist in another life.

        Between you, me and whoever reads this, I aspire to be bigger, in some way, than King or Rowling. Each has their own following and fallout from what they aspire(d) to do. And, I have mine. And, you have yours. I’d hate to put all my heart and time into something that goes nowhere. That would inspire mad screams in the night and naked running through the streets.

        Thanks for the epitaph. 🙂

  2. I wish you well with your big dreams and high hopes. I wasn’t writing my own epitaph. I am still living and writing up the biggest word-storm that I can muster, hoping that my windiness will blow a ways into the future beyond my time on earth. You all need to survive to help me make that happen, so no more electing Donald Trumps as president. My book is advertised on my blog. I am developing an essay style that helps me practice humor and making thoughtful arguments. It does take a lot more connecting of ideas than we are doing in these comments. Transitions are important, even after years of circling the empty spaces in student essays where I wanted to see more of them, and then never seeing them. But I don’t think never being discovered as a writer or cartoonist makes writing a blog a waste of time or reason for naked running. Naked running, by the way? An odd turn for a descent into madness. A King Lear sort of thing?

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