Mamid
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Nov 28, 2004
- Posts
- 787
I was like that with art.
(highjack)
I was almost hired by an animation studio at 16.
If my mother had been smart, she would have let me go to one of the art institutes at 18. She refused to sign the paperwork for my student loan because I'd be in a different country and no longer under her control even though I was going to be about 2 hrs away by car.
When I was 21, doing the dishes late one night, I had an argument with the now ex Dickwad. I went back to doing dishes and suddenly, a bowl broke in my hands, nearly amputating my thumb. If the angle had been just slightly more, it would have cut through the bone. As it was, it glanced off and probably severed one of the tendons. The level of medical care in the small town I was at and the middle of a Canadian artic winter meant that medical care was advance first aide only and the doctors there were not the greatest in the world. The one that was on duty was from South Africa and I am pretty sure he was one of the last in his class. By the time I got to see someone who could have done something to fix it, it was too late.
The red dots are where the scar is. It hurts if touched the wrong way. For a bit of an anatomy lesson, you have 4 tendons in your thumb, two in the front/palm and two on the back. My thumb pad was numb for over two years. Instead of doing smooth curves by hand, there is a jog in the line. It took me 9 months to be able to sign my name again and another 2 years before I could write for any length of time. It still hurts to hand write a page. Its the reason why I've stopped doing a journal too.
The worst part was not getting sympathy from people I thought were my friends. Instead, I was told to use my other hand or stick a paint brush in my teeth and paint that way. Sure, I can do that, but that's not the point. I lost my life's dream the day the bowl broke.
I've never gotten my skill back. I still have the talent but nothing brings me the same sense of satisfaction and enjoyment that pen and ink used to. I knit, I crochet, I still draw, and I do needlework. But the creative spark I had when I was able to draw was destroyed the day the bowl broke.
Stupid thing was that the bowl had broken previously and I had repaired it. Now, when a bowl, glass, whatever breaks and leaks I just throw it out instead of fixing it.
I think I'll go cry now.
(/hijack)
(highjack)
I was almost hired by an animation studio at 16.
If my mother had been smart, she would have let me go to one of the art institutes at 18. She refused to sign the paperwork for my student loan because I'd be in a different country and no longer under her control even though I was going to be about 2 hrs away by car.
When I was 21, doing the dishes late one night, I had an argument with the now ex Dickwad. I went back to doing dishes and suddenly, a bowl broke in my hands, nearly amputating my thumb. If the angle had been just slightly more, it would have cut through the bone. As it was, it glanced off and probably severed one of the tendons. The level of medical care in the small town I was at and the middle of a Canadian artic winter meant that medical care was advance first aide only and the doctors there were not the greatest in the world. The one that was on duty was from South Africa and I am pretty sure he was one of the last in his class. By the time I got to see someone who could have done something to fix it, it was too late.
The red dots are where the scar is. It hurts if touched the wrong way. For a bit of an anatomy lesson, you have 4 tendons in your thumb, two in the front/palm and two on the back. My thumb pad was numb for over two years. Instead of doing smooth curves by hand, there is a jog in the line. It took me 9 months to be able to sign my name again and another 2 years before I could write for any length of time. It still hurts to hand write a page. Its the reason why I've stopped doing a journal too.
The worst part was not getting sympathy from people I thought were my friends. Instead, I was told to use my other hand or stick a paint brush in my teeth and paint that way. Sure, I can do that, but that's not the point. I lost my life's dream the day the bowl broke.
I've never gotten my skill back. I still have the talent but nothing brings me the same sense of satisfaction and enjoyment that pen and ink used to. I knit, I crochet, I still draw, and I do needlework. But the creative spark I had when I was able to draw was destroyed the day the bowl broke.
Stupid thing was that the bowl had broken previously and I had repaired it. Now, when a bowl, glass, whatever breaks and leaks I just throw it out instead of fixing it.
I think I'll go cry now.
(/hijack)
