SUPPRESSION •Complete•

TRASH BIN HUGGER

TRASH BIN HUGGER

I took my notebook and sat down on my bed, tucking my legs under me. I stared at my notebook, pencil in hand as I waited for inspiration. I had my laptop opened to picture of a humming bird.

I decided that I couldn't add a deeper meaning to my humming bird unless I could actually draw a humming bird. So here I sat, on my bed, attempting to draw a humming bird.

I tried sketching the head first. It looked like a misshapen rock so I tore out the paper. I crumbled it in my hand and shot it into the waste basket.

My second, third and fourth attempt I started with drawing the head. They all ended up, crumbled in the bottom of my trash bin.

On my fifth attempt I decided to switch it up a bit. I started with it's feet. Only then I realized humming birds didn't have feet, visible feet at that. That attempt also found it's self in my trash bin.

I studied the picture, analyzing the graceful slopes of it's body and long shapely beak. I couldn't draw a humming bird. What wash thinking? That I'd magically get some drawing talent over night? Obviously I wasn't so fortunate.

I had lost count of how many attempt I've gone at it. I'm at least at ten. I'm probably almost to twenty. I dropped my notebook and pencil and just collapsed back onto my bed. This was for sure a disaster. I can't draw, I wasn't nearly skilled enough. I'd have to find a new way to express my humming bird. Maybe I could try abstract? Those who couldn't draw did abstract. Or maybe I should do photography? That's art, right? I'll have to check up on that theory. Because if I could do photography, then well, I may have a chance.

Although, I'm not giving up yet on my sketch. I must be able to create the bird before I can add meaning to the bird. May be the hardest challenge I've faced yet. And I thought this was going to be an easy assignment.

Mom: "Freya, dinner."

Mom came into my room without knocking. Just waltzing in like manners didn't count anymore.

Me: "..."

Mom: "Don't give me that look. It's not like you're doing anything important up here."

Me: "..."

Mom: "Why do have all these crumbled papers in your waste basket?"

Me: "..."

Mom: "Are you trying to write a love letter?" She squealed, actually squealed.

Me: "Art project."

Mom: "Oh."

She looked disappointed.

Me: "..."

Mom: "Well come on, your father ordered Chinese take out."

Oh my favorite, at least it's not pizza. I can't stand even the stench of pizza anymore.

Me: "..."

I closed my notebook and set it and my pencil back on my desk. I closed my laptop and set it on my desk as well. I picked up a few stray paper balls and chucked them into my trash bin.

Tree huggers would be appalled at the sight of my over flowing trash bin. They'd accuse me of being a trash bin hugger. Whatever that is.