Two metaphors

2/4/2017

Why do I always have trouble writing consistent number 2s? What is so complex about a half drawn 3, half of 4? An integer that is complete in itself, but made of two ones and learned at the age of it’s value. A semicircle and a 45 degree angle. A simple squiggle and a line.

I guess part of it - my battle - is that although to most people it is as easy as 1 or 3, for me it’s a decision. Turn left or go straight; make a loop or a line. It’s the same reason that I don’t like split-entry houses. I don’t want to come home and be faced with a decision. Go up or go down? Parallelly, I don’t want to be stumped at the beginning of a good write because I can’t untangle the date at the top of the page. What bothers me more is I’ve grown to despise something I once favored: even numbers. But it gets me thinking that perhaps odd numbers are not inferior. Of course now I’m wondering; is zero even or odd?

I feel vulnerable when I write on the first line of a page. The letters aren’t protected by the lines - as if they don’t have both parents to look after them. Why does a single parent give me a bad taste in my mouth? Since when did I start associating letters on a page with my separation anxiety? This must be related to my rationalization that writing on the left page is morally wrong solely because it’s not right. Or - that I have to completely white-out my spelling errors because I’m afraid to look back and notice my own mistakes. In the same way, I'm very cautious of the length of my words because I don’t want them to fall off the lines - even though there’s still paper. It's as if I don’t trust myself to write straight beyond the guide.

Why is a rough draft so vulnerable? I find myself longing for contentment in the empty spaces of a second draft. I must remind myself that there is always room for growth, even after it is published.