Allow me to preface this page with the following statement: I am not an artist. When asked "Can you draw?" I oft reply with an ever-so-confident "Well...sorta?". I do, however, pride myself in my ability to doodle- that is "to scribble absentmindedly". It's just something sorta magical that happens if I'm left alone long enough with paper and a pen. I create without thought... which is something that I struggle to do in any other medium. Written expression may be something that I hold dear to my heart, but it is never raw. It's edited and re-edited and then edited again until I feel like it's squeaky clean. Doodling, on the other hand, just spills onto the page. Admittedly, that's probably because I don't usually doodle for anyone other than myself. When it's just me, there is no pressure to be anything other than chaotically creative. 

 

Now, that said, a few months ago I decided to give my doodles a purpose. Let me explain. The year 2020, with its many hurdles, was also my first year of marriage... an adventure that, in itself, is often challenging. Needless to say, my new husband and I learned a lot about one another in twelve short months- the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even so, when our anniversary rolled around in September, we had little to show for the countless memories that we had made together. Not only had I entirely neglected my journal, but we had hardly a handful of pictures between the two of us. It broke my heart. So, thus began a segment of my life which I like to call "documentary doodling". Every week I document the little moments of our marriage- things like quarantine movie-marathons and late night ice cream runs- with doodles. Whether it be in the margins of my school notebooks or throughout the pages of my day planner, I find a space to to tell our story.