A Note On Mistakes

Our art teacher told us to hold on to the mistakes we made because we could easily cover them up. The accidental stroke of a brush or scratch of a pencil could be covered with more paint or shading. Maybe the accident would become a part of the artwork without any need to cover it up, but just add to it. I suppose that makes mistakes a part of art. Beautiful works develope when our minds wander off, mis-estimate, or our hands ignore the command of our brain.

I remember the same thing happened in music. The unwritten note that I accidentally sang I occasionally enjoyed more, which didn't help to remember the correct note. It wasn't where the composer had intended to musically move, it wasn't the emotion that he was trying to evoke, but the part of the melody that I screwed up was mine. It was my absent mind that created it and my taste that preferred it. However, in that circumstance, change was impossible. I would have to learn the right note and sing what was written.

But I still liked the mistake more.

Every day we create, fix, ignore, or love our mistakes. I'm convinced, in fact, that we're so used to making mistakes that often we don't even notice we're making them and correcting them. Think about how many times we mis-spell a word we know how to spell or make a typo. Notice that you have significantly more or less money in your checking? Perhaps a mathmatical error in your favor, or most definetly not in your favor, but either or, it was a mistake. Lock yourself out and have to sit in the cold garage until someone gets home? Forgetting your keys was a real mistake. Missed deadlines, drinking too much, ordering the wrong item out of a catalog, or having an affair with your secretary are all mistakes. But lets face it, you had a great time on Saturday and you love that black dress.

The secretary, well, thats a mess I can more closely relate to than a typo. That doesn't mean that you should assume that I'm a mistress, because I'm not. In fact everything with the relationship is legit. Well, not in the eyes of the Catholic church, parents or grandparents. My dad doesn't even know about my boyfriend and now I'm having his child.

This is a mess, to say the least. However, even though this mistake is bigger, much bigger than the accidental stroke of a paintbrush, this child is getting painted into the picture.

And it's going to look more wonderful than I ever could have ever imagined.