Dead Dreams

Spoiler alert for In The Good Old Summertime.

If you have ever watched the show In The Good Old Summertime with Judy Garland and Van Johnson, you will remember Mr. Oberkugen and his Stradivarius. At the end, after hearing the Stradivarius played properly, he can no longer enjoy playing it himself, knowing how badly he falls short. I expect the employees are relieved at not having to hear his poor performance every time something goes wrong. But in watching this, I have to feel badly for Mr. Oberkugen. After all, now what is he going to do to feel better when things go wrong?

Perhaps my feeling this way has to do with having gone through similar experiences myself. In early elementary school, I thought of myself as a great artist for my age. This was first challenged when I saw Jason's* cartoons in fourth grade, and realized I couldn't draw anything as good as his pictures were. I soon got over that, however, and thought of myself as a pretty good artist.

In ninth grade, something similar happened with the maps I drew for geography. I would work on them, coloring neatly and carefully and drawing the rivers, lakes, and mountains just so, and at the end I always felt that I had done a particularly good job.

But then, in class the next day, we would take out our work to hand in. And I would see Brad's* map. Whereas mine were neatly and decently done, his were a work of art. His mountains always looked better than mine, and it was always shaded so nicely that my efforts paled considerably in comparison.

I haven't drawn for fun in a very long time. Now if I do draw, I look at my efforts and see all the holes. I used to get a lot of pleasure from drawing and painting, but now, I doodle. And that's all. Luckily, I do still have my writing. I would love to be a published author some day, but I don't know if I can handle giving out my work for input. If my idea of myself as a good writer gets seriously challenged, I don't know what I will turn to.


*Names have been changed