Tales from a Bona Fide Screw-up.

My mind has always been screwed up. I mean, I have no single point in my life on which I reflect and think to myself, “yes, that’s when it aaall started!”. No, I have been screwing up right from the very beginning. The only thing that has changed is the manner of the screw ups. Even so, the products of my child mind were… baffling, to say the least. On boxing day I intended to share with you all the story of Da Boxa, one of such screwed up products. As that didn’t transpire, I shall just use this post to merely paint you a picture of how screwed up a mind could be. Literally.

I guess nothing reflected my child mind more than the comics I had drawn through-out my childhood. Ever since I learnt how to do matchsticks and write a couple of words, I was on as much of a journey of self exploration as a child could be. The first ones were about a teacher in class with students and also some action-packed football matches. I’d draw a million arrows indicating shots and passes or I’d simply draw lots and lots of dialogue bubbles in one picture showing the exchanges between teacher and pupil so that by the end of it, the Pollock-esque results won’t make sense even to myself. And I’d have to start on new ones.

Pollock 1A looks exactly the same as my infantile comics. I could have been an art legend!

The first fleshed out story I have ever constructed was perhaps Da Boxa. Comics of a guy who boxed everyone that would have given any shrink a field day (labelling me as a nut case, I guess – Da Boxa boxed everyone). The first time I did a Boxa story I was about nine, and in primary school, when my friend Nazee and I were fond of drawing pictures and making funny voices about them for our own amusement. Most of them were harmless, like Nazee’s proud drawing that showed off it’s different coloured shirt. Once or twice we did go a bit too far, like when we joked at our teacher’s expense, who I remember once complained to our class that we had no expressions and showed no attempts at acting whatsoever when we were asked to read a play in front of class. Nazee and I got up and  did a stellar performance – EXACTLY in our teacher’s hilariously exaggerated tone.

We seriously didn’t know how our teacher would react to this suicidal joke.

*Gulp*

I couldn’t believe it. (I have theorised about this unexpected affirmation for many years to come, and finally concluded that people just love seeing themselves in others).

Such a blasé method of thinking on my part doesn’t mean that I didn’t have any aspirations or dreams, or that I even though of myself as ‘artsy’. I believe I had just the same aspirations as any kid of my age.

If there was one thing that held me back from realizing anything, or taking life too serious though, it was the need for laughs. No matter how hard I try, my mind never takes anything serious. It’s like I have this monstrous sense of humour in me that is beyond control.  I mean, just recently…

This sense of humour had got me in trouble several times. And fights also, when I was in secondary school; this was, I remember, due to having a book in which I drew so many different comics and caricatures of my friends (never mind that none of them found it funny). I made some of them parodies of superheroes based on exaggerated features and traits, recreated fight scenes, even made alter egos for some that they didn’t quite like, but were hilarious to me, which, to me, was all that mattered. I will not repeat the stories or drawings I put in that book, as I’m sure some of them are not quite over it, but I can tell you that it caused so much trouble it was torn and put in a bin.

I seriously didn’t know how it felt. To have your not-so-proud moments recreated and your flaws accentuated and put in a book like that. Even when my friend Shim made his own comic book with the much more marketable scheme of having ALL classmates contribute, I was one of the more prolific contributors.

The sense of betrayal when I opened it one day to see my OWN fight scene!! (remixed, I might add). I was so incensed by the whole remixing of the scene, I immediately demanded who drew it.

(I strongly suspected Nasman)

I honestly had no sense of hypocrisy at all (I remixed scenes heavily myself). But I could say that was the point in which I stopped drawing comics. I had a brief stint reviving Da Boxa (fight scenes with Da Kicka and Grandmaster Turtle), but that was it, now I knew how it felt. I had hung my pencil.

Until this post, that is. To be honest this post is more an excuse to draw around a bit and see if I could still maintain a level of entertainment value by writing about them. So there you have it, it’s ended up as your last post of 2010.

Have a happy new year. And one that would be entrenched in schadenfreude for your journey with me of how I screwed up my life (if you still don’t know what schadenfreude is, shame on you). So stay tuned for more screw-up stories. Hap-py new year!

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Comments on: "Mind State of a Screw Up: Drowsy the Artist" (5)

  1. I made me some comic books meself when i was in primary 6 oddly enough about war stories( had an obsession with war as a kid war movies war comics war stories were my faves ) my class teacher had to intervene one day when he head me wish for a war, told me that war wasnt a game and constitutes heavy losses of lives and property…..suffice it to say it really dampened my enthusiasm for war and converted me to a religion of peace

  2. Haha, you must have taken ‘Trading War Stories’ literally.

    Peace!? Only thing that has changed is you’ve now focused on ‘The Greatest Depression’ instead!

  3. Still wrytn ma comment

  4. ….

    Am hesitant to ask about the pictures…. So I won’t.

    Lol, I remember a time when I tried to turn a story into a comic. I paneled it and boxed it and made it look all professional like.

    And then I bolloxed it up by actually -drawing- in it.

    Shudder. Amazing just how bad a match-stick figure can get…

  5. Come on, Shade. You’re a half-decent drawer, no? With all that anime?

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