2nd draft
I have always been an artistic individual. Even from an early age I spent a significant amount of time making things. The fact that I’ve endured 18 years and still maintain a passion for this is testament to how deeply ingrained it is in me. The need to create is in my blood. Up to this point that intrinsic drive to create has been for my own amusement and satisfaction. I’ve never believed in a power greater than myself until recently. It took a very strange experience to convince me otherwise. I feel the story is worth sharing. It’s convoluted. At the time, as it was happening it didn’t make sense. It only made sense afterwards. Writing is not my forte but I will do my best to convey the importance of this experience to me.
My story begins between the hours of 6 and 7 on a winter day. I was housesitting for my mother’s friend and outside smoking a cigarette. That fateful flick of a Clipper lighter illuminated a great personal truth that I’d never have discovered otherwise. I’d been staring at myself in the mirror outside. It reflected the low-laying roof of the garage stuck between the identical sidings of two condos. An object that had something to do with the house’s heating jutted up from the approximate center. I hit the lighter to light my cigarette and in a flash saw something incredibly beautiful. I’m certain it triggered something my psychology teacher has termed ‘flashbulb memory’ which is usually saved for intensely emotional experiences such as the birth of a child. All I know is that I’m not going to forget that awe-striking picture. The square frame of the mirror, the circular mirror itself, in front of me the redness of fire chasing shadows to one side of my face, behind me the oddly symmetrical architecture and gradations of blue that only hinted at the forthcoming breaking of dawn. I was so struck by the image that I immediately began scurrying around to find the art supplies I’d brought with me in an effort to capture what I’d just seen. I soon found that to be folly. I didn’t have what I needed to do it. I didn’t have the supplies or proficient enough painting skill to accomplish what I wanted to. At that time I just thought that it was neat that I’d seen something so artistic and inspiring. Later that day I was contemplating it and was struck by the thought that perhaps it was not just a neat coincidence.
Later still I was driving home to eat a quick supper with my father before heading in to work. I didn’t sleep Sunday night and, Monday afternoon had come much quicker than I’d anticipated. As I neared the turn onto my street I wished for a bottle of water so I wouldn’t reek quite so badly of cigarettes. I was also pretty dehydrated. I glanced at the floorboard and saw a full bottle of water.
A few days prior to this I had cleaned out my car. During that I had found two water bottles with precisely enough water to combine into a full one. I really wanted to just throw all the trash in my car away but for some reason felt compelled to keep just one water bottle. And there it was, staring up at me as if to answer my plight. Quite odd.
Dinner was uneventful and I made it to work with a few minutes to spare. I collected my work things and headed to for the entrance. I arrived at precisely the right moment to help a man with a broken leg and crutches get through the two sets of doors.
Work was, in a word, intense. I’d done this before. Worked Sunday, stayed up all night finishing homework I’d postponed as long as possible, gone to school and showed up at Cracker Barrel once again to serve folks their country fresh cooking. However, it quickly became clear to me that today was not the same case. I had a section I’d never had before and was immediately seated with a table of six. I was leery of this but had no other option but to take it. I vowed to do my best.
My best that day was not up to par with the Cracker Barrel serving standard, or even a brain-dead monkey. I messed up or forgot several things, including several bowls of grits and a table of two that I’d been seated with in the midst of taking care of the six people at the first table. I started to freak out. I told my manager that I thought I could handle work but felt terrible and needed to go home.
That was true enough, the fact that I’d done it to myself not withstanding. I was extremely distraught by this point but made myself go back to the large table and fix what I’d bungled up. I also quickly thought something up to tell the table of two I’d neglected during that time. They had a simple order, but I still managed to mess it up by entering of their orders into the computer incorrectly. I fixed their ticket and decided what I thought would be the right thing to do, which would be to buy the food that shouldn’t have been made. I went to my car to search for my wallet.
Now, I rarely ever keep money in my wallet. I usually just stuff enough in my pocket for whatever it is I’m doing for the evening. But for unclear reasons I had stuffed some money in a few days earlier. I had six dollar bills and some change. The exact price of the erroneously entered beef stew was $6.22 and I had just enough to cover it. I went back in, paid for the food, cleaned up the tables and went home to sleep.
That was a very strange day. Every strange thing that happened was not some mystic Godsend that appeared before my eyes but the product of eerily precise timing and my own odd behavior during days leading up to that one. The fact that the odd happenings were eerily convenient formed a pattern. But beyond a pattern I sensed a distinct message.
I saw something beautiful and I need to paint it. I will never be fully satisfied with myself until I do. I need to stop messing around with school and pushing myself too far for things that don’t matter. And finally I need to help people more. In essence, I need to focus on the things that are enduringly important to me. It boils down to art, learning and love. These are the three things I’ve come to acknowledge as important throughout my life. In a single day I saw and felt things that further impressed the importance and preeminence of those things in my life upon me. I don’t know about religion but I’m now sure there’s some sort of cosmic muffin that watches over everything and evidently has plans for me. It didn’t want me to burn out before I’ve reached my full potential.
I draw better than I speak and show better than I tell. I know haven’t reached my potential and doubt I will for a long time to come. I think Warren Wilson is the right sort of place with the right sort of staff to help me develop and grow towards my full potential to create, learn and love.