I told you I doodle too much. Via Instagram.

I have a really, really bad doodling habit. I always have. In third grade, my teacher started taking points off my tests because I filled the margins with doodles. I told her it didn’t matter because I got all the answers right, but she didn’t agree. 

I think my doodling is part of some unconscious Freudian art envy. My artistic ability is limited to stick figures and speech bubbles; art was never my strongest subject. I have always wished I had the ability to create something aesthetically beautiful, and I guess I started taking that out on my notebook. 

I have always loved the feeling of a good black pen on notebook paper. The point glides so smoothly, and I can’t help but be reminded of when I took figure skating lessons and could sail across the ice with minimal effort. So even though I can’t draw worth spit, I still doodle just to feel the pen on the paper, just to watch those black lines. I couldn’t create any sort of recognizable figure, so I just started layering lines and dots and swirls, over and over again. 

It’s about as close to a stream of consciousness as I can get. It’s all dots and lines and stars. Usually lyrics that are stuck in my head find their way into what I’m writing (bonus points to anyone who can name the songs in this one). It ends up looking something like this.

Photo via Instagram. 

Best New York Times lead ever? I think so. via Instagram.