Okay, everyone out of the closet now. Who doodles? I mean, draws little pictures, designs, squigglies, whatever. I am an obsessive doodler. There are doodles in my day-timer (yes I still have a manual paper one...PDAs are for pussies), doodles on every scrap of paper to be found in my apartment, doodles in my crossword puzzle books. I rarely even do the word puzzles. I really just love the feel of my medium point Papermate pen as it glides across the soft newsprint paper. It's the texture and flow of the combination, like butta.
Not sure how long this has been going on, but if you were to look back at my high school notebooks you'd find more doodles than notes. Perhaps it's a learned behavior. I remember as a young child watching my mom speaking on the phone and she would doodle on a scrap piece of paper as she was talking. I recall her doodle of choice was a smattering of concentric squares. She'd also constantly practice her signature. Not sure if she was proud of her name or just perfecting it for all those sick notes she had to write to my teachers.
Me, I doodle hearts mostly. Yes, I know, it's sappy but I've always been attracted to the heart shape. As a young girl my bedroom was littered with heart-shaped paraphernalia: boxes, earrings, pendants, rings, even my garbage can. Each time I went shopping, inevitably another heart-shaped item would catch my eye, until one day, my mother said, "Enough with all the hearts."
I've gone back to doodling hearts (Tough luck Mom!) along with these strange shaped blobs. Almost amoeba-like in shape, I doodle them in interlocking groups, like some kind of parasitic puzzle. I find doodling helps me to focus. It helps me stay connected to my body when I'm roaming around in my head. That's one thing I dislike about writing on a computer; it's more difficult to doodle while I'm waiting for the ideas to come. Stupid technology interfering with my creative process!
You can even analyze your doodles here. The interpretation of my heart doodles is that I'm in love or have a romantic disposition. No surprise there. Of course, at age five, I wasn't in love with anyone, but I'm sure I was already a romantic. In spite of all my incessant, sometimes insane, ramblings I am in love with life. In love with love. In love with pain. In love with everyone and everything. Perhaps that is what scared my Mom. Maybe she wasn't ready for Little Miss Love. That's okay Mom. I love you.