Changing the subject

The most frustrating thing in my life is being able to draw animals well enough to make up my own and draw them convincingly, but then filling up ten pages of my sketchbook with scratched-out attempts at the same human. I can’t even draw manga.

Quite frustrating.

I’m also very picky about pencils. To the point where I won’t even USE a pencil unless it’s Ticonderoga brand. I’m picky about everything, really. I like my pizza to have stretchy, melty cheese and juicy sauce. I retie both my shoes if one isn’t tight enough. I read first person books set either in the future or in a different world. I refuse to wear anything that’s any shade of pink. I could go on.

I’ve been called by a lot of people (including yours truly) the pickiest person in the world. I’ve also been called a hipster. And I don’t disagree with that, either.

I doubt you’ve heard of Poko Lambro, or Andy McKee, or Audiomachine, or Two Steps From Hell, and I doubt you’ve heard any Owl City besides Fireflies, or any Foster The People besides Pumped Up Kicks.

I’m really just writing down thoughts as I think them. How come I can write so well about myself, but fail at writing about anything else?

Quite frustrating.

By the way, if you want to know anything about any kind of bird, I will happily go on about them for two hours.

Why is it that I talk to people only when they ask me a question, but pour out everything on my blog?

Anyone who knows what autism is would probably know I have it.

This is starting not to make any sense. I should stop.

I’m off to fangirl about The Hunger games and doodle the characters obsessively.

Au revoir, mon amis!

 

Stare

I tend to stare a lot. Especially when I’m the only one who sees someone.

We were out in the backyard the other day, and I happened to be up high when our neighbor came out of his house to shut his dog up. I was just staring at him, but it might have looked a little menacing, because he kept glancing back at me as if my gaze sent chills up his spine.

His looks were what I would call goth-ish. Spiky mohawk  that’s green on the top but then fades into a dark black, tattoo-covered arms and back, and black skinny jeans.

You see, when I stare, I’m not really meaning to, just studying people. And, sometimes, those I study are either perfect looks for new characters, or look just like the ones that already exist.

And I don’t just stare at people, I stare at animals, too. Mostly cats. They stare back. I like that.

I’m sorry if I’m confusing you, I’m different from many people. I’m hard to understand.

Fearful glancing is one response, staring back is another. I like it when they stare back. Those who stare back usually end up my friends.

They might fear my gaze because of my eye color. Eyes my color always looked scary to me, and the hugeness doesn’t help.

This is the part where you look at me in disbelief because you just found out how odd I am.