Once upon a time in this blog, I commented that I couldn’t draw noses. This, I claimed, was a source of frustration for me.
It still is.
Actually, I can draw noses. But they don’t look like the nose I’m trying to draw. I can draw quite expressive portraits, but you’d have no idea who the subjects were. Have been trying to practise a little lately, as I hardly ever draw these days. Also, I’ve been attempting to teach myself to knit. Well – up until a couple of weeks ago. Then I started drawing noses (frustratedly). It’s been ages since I did any Greek revision. Oh, and I’ve started trying to learn German.
This as well as my normal occupation of writing, church stuff and all the other things in my life. (The ironing pile has suddenly sprung to mind. Argh.)
|This is definitely not my nose|
There are too many things I want to do in life. They’re not, relatively speaking, always huge things. Just huge amounts of little things.
I pick away at one, and then at another. I can’t quite stay still; I don’t really want to. I’ve realised I thrive on variety. But I would like to get good at some of them and that means choosing, which irritates me.
How much do I want to be able to draw your nose?
It’s a very hard question to answer.
Image from stock.xchng