I am 40 years old, and have never learned how to draw. This has bothered me my entire life. So I’m finally taking drawing lessons.

I quickly learned that I don’t have a surprisingly wonderful natural inclination toward drawing. I figured I didn’t. But finding a new talent would have been rad.

This is a crap-tastic onion.

The thing that has struck me the most is how similar drawing and writing are. In both drawing and writing, we are trying to capture life in a way that enables the audience to relate. We are trying to capture moments, minutiae, emotions.

This box holds my failure.

A friend of mine who is an artist told me that drawing is a learned skill. I kind of assumed people can either draw or they can’t. But like writing, a certain skill level can be attained for anyone. Maybe not a fantastic skill level, though. And that’s okay.

A collection of things I can’t draw.

We used charcoal today to draw a stool with a drapey thing over it. That really sucked. What I’ve realized is that writing is my true love, and drawing is my crush that flirts back but doesn’t mean it.