Controlled

It’s been a while since I last shared some of my drawings here. 

I’ve been looking at other people’s drawings on Instagram and Facebook and I saw that some of these drawings have a deep meaning behind them; things concerning society and culture. 

I’ve sketched two drawings really quickly the other night and I thought I should share them with you. 


The first drawing (if you can tell) was inspired by the idea that “skinny” is people’s, and especially young girls’, goal. The man is being suffocated by the waistband, even though he’s gotten too skinny to the point where his ribs are showing. 

The second drawing is pretty obvious. Our emotions, as well as society’s standards and criticism, control us. We are like puppets succumbing to the desires of society and to our emotions and feelings. The hardest thing for a puppet is to come alive and break free. 

I’ll make sure to post more drawings from now on…so many things I want to share with you. Until next time, create and keep blogging. 

Tea & Toast

This is a beautiful song written by an amazing singer and songwriter. I thought I would share its lyrics with you.

Tom was born in 1942
With eyes of blue
And the doctors said
That his birth was far too fast
His heart stopped twice
But yet he survived
As he took his first breath
His mother took her last

And his father knew that he wasn’t to blame
But he never quite looked at Tom the same
After that
And he rarely spoke about her
But when he did
He said, “Your mother used to say this

“When the skies are looking bad my dear
And your heart’s lost all its hope
After dawn there will be sunshine
And all the dust will go
The skies will clear my darling
I’ll wake up with the one I love the most
And in the morning, I’ll make you up
Some tea and toast.”

Well, they met through a friend
Who introduced them
And the first thing Tom said was, “Would you like to dance?”
They moved with each other
And when the music got slower
He said, “Don’t let go of my hand.”
He said, “It’s only polite if I ask you tonight
Would it be alright, if I could walk you home?”
That night he told her of his birth
And he said when it hurt
He thought about what his mother said about tea and toast

Well, two quick years went by
They were side by side
And without a plan they conceived a little child
He said, “Woman, I love you and this you know
But I only earn enough for our food and clothes
But I love you and this baby until the day that I die.”
She said, “We’ll take care of this little life
And we’ll fall in love with her baby blue eyes
And we’ll be alright from some advice that I know.”
She said, “I never got to meet her
But if I did, I’m sure your mother would have said this

“When the skies are looking bad my dear
And your heart’s lost all its hope
After dawn there will be sunshine
And all the dust will go
The skies will clear my darling
We’ll show this baby all the love we know
And in the morning, I’ll make you up
Some tea and toast.”

Well, he took those words
And he made them proud
He worked day after day
And hour after hour
So that they could buy a little house just on the outside of town
Their little girl grew up and so did they
They said that they loved each other everyday
And forty years later, that brings us to now

And as they’re walking down the street
Her grip loosens on his hand
He puts his arm around her side as she falls to the ground
He hears her breathing and that’s the only sound
Her body on the floor attracts a worried crowd
Tears rolls off his face as he says, “Don’t let go, now.”

And he’s sitting by her bed in the hospital ward
Then their daughter walks in with a family of her own
She says, “Dad, I don’t know if she can hear you now
But there’s one thing mum would want you to know.”

“When the skies are looking bad my dear
And your heart’s lost all its hope
After dawn there will be sunshine
And all the dust will go
Skies will clear my darling
Now it’s time for you to let go
Our girl will wake you up in the mornin’ with some tea and toast.”

— Lyrics and music by Lucy Spraggan.

Reflections of a Mirror

This article was written by a student at my school, and she deserves full recognition because I can honestly say that this is one of the most beautiful things I have read in a while.

Though eyes I have, they have no sight; I can’t be seen in the black of the night; if I move left, then you move right; in looking glass, I come to life. Who am I? I am a mirror. To different people, I mean different things. To ordinary people, I am a helpful companion who prevents them from looking foolish at work. To the narcissists, I am the wise crystal ball that shows them how magnificent they are. To the tortured and self-loathing artists, I am the self-made reality they want to escape.

Jack bought me at a garage sale to facilitate his life. He gets out of bed, rushes to the bathroom, and makes funny faces at me as he brushes his teeth. He goes back to his bedroom to pick out some clothes. I show him how those jeans do not go well with that top. He heeds my advice and changes into something better. After lunch, I point out the piece of parsley between his teeth so as to save him the embarrassment. Sometimes I serve no other purpose than to decorate the halls of his home.

Dorian, however, enjoys my company a great deal more than Jack does. I allow him to speak to himself. For despite hours of symbolically gazing at his reflection, he cannot stand the thought of someone else truly peering upon him. He tells himself how beautiful he is and how intelligent he is. I try to be as objective as I can in my reflections but Dorian sees what he wants to see. What I find most peculiar is that he enjoys taking pictures of me; however, it is more probable that he is taking pictures of himself after I have shown him how handsome he looks this evening.

Finally comes poor self-loathing Sylvia. She cannot stand to look at me, although I am the most accurate depiction she will ever see of herself. As she looks into my depths, all Sylvia sees are her insecurities. She keeps me around for the same reason Jack does; she needs me to survive in her everyday life. It is not my fault I assure you, but her tortured soul clouds her judgment.

I live my life vicariously through other people. I am Jack, Dorian, and Sylvia. I age with each one of them and after they are gone, I am made young again with the arrival of my new host. I have seen toddlers grow into tormented teenagers, and teenagers grow into loving parents. In the cracks of my body and the black blotches on my skin, I carry all these lives within me.

Credits to Maria Atik.