When I was a kid my dad used to drive me crazy with altruisms. He'd always say things like, "Well, either it'll rain, or it won't." and "We'll get there when we get there." Absolutely infuriating. "Of course that's how it'll happen!" I'd think, "What's the point of saying it?" But it's possible, now that I think about it, that some of my "yes or no" "X or Y" mentality comes from him being like that.
I love baseball. I'd like to say it's because my dad likes it and he taught me to like it too, but more likely it's because it's predictable. It's my "comfort sport". (Not that I have any other type of sport, I've never been especially athletic.) In baseball, you know there are only a certain number of outcomes, and they're all based on one thing: either you hit the ball or you don't.
Today after lunch I played baseball with the 4-6th graders (we were still a few players short since there's only 13 of them) and one of their teachers. I'd been worrying over how to solve a few different problems but I couldn't seem to think of any answers. In fact all I could think of was the things that caused them. There were just too many angles in my head. Too many sticking points to consider. All that was coming to me was feelings of disappointment. I couldn't see a clear outcome for any of it. And then..........I got hit in the head. Literally. Fifth graders don't have the best pitching control.
Our team lost 6-4 in the end, but it didn't really matter. We weren't really playing to win. We were just playing because we wanted to. Because it's fun, and everyone knows how. You just try to hit the ball. And either you'll hit it, or you won't. Doesn't take much thought after all.
Recently I think I've had a breakthrough with drawing. I told myself to stop focusing so hard on every minuscule line and just draw the person I wanted to draw, because, as evidence has shown, I can draw. Might as well just do it already. So after the game I went back to my meeting room and started drawing Mukuro & sure enough it went a lot faster when all I thought was, "I know what I'm doing. It's supposed to look like this."
