Normally my conversations involve at least one well placed anecdote. So, I figured I'd post some on my journal.

Here's one of my favorites:

My first ( and last) drawing class.

I get a lot of people to ask me, through many conversational means, why I refuse to take a drawing class and here is the story I tell them.

Around seventh grade I tried to take an art class. I don't remember where it was but I certainly remember that there were kids that had taken the two week course rather than the one week course( instantly making me feel ill-informed).

The teacher, some crotchety old geezer, asked us to do one thing: Draw something.

Well, I was hungry and thought macoroni and cheese sounded good, so I drew cartoony noodle superhero ( noodle-man) and a cartoony hunk of cheese ( His sidekick, Cheezy).

The teacher, looking like he swallowed something nasty already, stalked his way around the room, briefly scanning each of the drawings for what seemed like no more than two seconds. After his rounds, he got up in front of the class and said something I won't ever forget:

" It's official, none of you can draw. I want you to forget everything you know about drawing, right now, so I can teach you the correct way."

He stared right at me as he said that.

Even back then, my first thought was ' excuse me....'

Needless to say, he never saw my mug there again.

Since then, I've had a problem with people telling me how to draw. whenever someone tries, no matter how nice they try to be, I tense up and go into my stubborn mode. If I half-ass something, I know I did it.

but anyway, that one of my messed up stories.