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.
Wasn't sure what to draw. Anxiety can be a real creative block sometimes. I looked up the date and noticed it was Mojito Day. Mojitos have a pleasant vibe. Please, go easy on me. I am a digital artist but really wanna draw traditionally for these Monday doodles. Much respect everyone.
Happy Earth Day! Today we should reflect on at least one thing we love about our planet. Is it your favorite place in nature to visit? Your favorite animal? A favorite memory from childhood? Now the next step to ask yourself is what part am I playing to preserve our earth? All it takes is one action from you to make a difference. Collectively we will make a difference.
It's ok to not make sense. It's ok to not follow a pattern. It's ok to be the odd one out.
Life is too beautiful, too amazing, to eccentric, too weird to fit inside someone else's tiny little box of an opinion about you. Break free out of that and live your life on your terms.
“The politics of the world frustrate me. I control my frustration when I write, but it explodes when I perform.”
A quote from a Benjamin Zephaniah documentary I caught not long ago on BBC iPlayer’s been resonating with me as of late. Granted, I tend to keep politics light here (if anything) but I stand by what I’ve just said regardless.
