I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
New sketchbook time again? That it is. Credit to one of my workmates for inspiring the title here, hehehehe. It's been a busy few days here at Bleu HQ... '^^ :-)
Still playing with ballpoint pens. This time, I tried a “scribble” drawing, holding the pen way back on the shaft and making little circles and scribbles….then layering them over and over. It was actually very liberating and fun. I did this on a Canson sketch paper….which didn’t wear through, but did buckle a little towards the end.
Doodling is what I do. It's a way to make visible the randomness that's in my head - just drawing out a concept right when it comes to mind and scribbling on whatever I can find.
Re-doodling after five years! Five years after joining Doodle Addicts, I decided to redraw my 47th upload and share it as my 431st upload to see how much I've progressed.
