Emily Nguyen, Week #14: Shut up.
How do you say, hey, come back? Let’s go back to when you and I would draw together.
I can’t say what my (older) brother had been interested in as a kid. I don’t remember much of my childhood, and I definitely don’t know his story. But I do know that he drew sparingly: crude “stick” figures that were more like sausages with more sausages for fingers. He adapted his style to normal stick figures when he came up with the idea of “Jack the Robber.” A short-lived franchise. I still wonder where his self-made comics on printer paper went, maybe discarded with the rest of our useless junk which I would do anything to see again now.
Jack the Robber was quite the robber; he famously outran the police on the “Nimitz Freeway” and hoarded guns in his house. Lots of money bags, teleportation chambers, welding, and banks were involved. I was hired to make a poster advertising the comic at age 8. My art drastically contrasted my brother’s, but we still taped it on our stairway wall to display to the world (the rest of our house) as official Jack the Robber promotional material.
It felt so pure, and I wouldn’t have ever known that Jack’s one story would be the last time we would sit at the table together and collaborate and talk about stupid things like “should we draw muscles?” or “how do you know the name of that freeway?”
I doubt he remembers it now. I doubt that anyone but me would know that Jack’s face looked like =) but I don’t remember if Jack had hair.
I recognized early on that being a show-off had no place here. I knew I outshined my brother in a lot of things (not athletics of course) and art was definitely one of these things. I’ve always been tiptoeing around displaying my skills. Always disgusted with how I knew I was doing this so that I didn’t feel guilty making the other person feel bad comparing themself. While drawing the comics I would simply copy what my brother drew. It was probably when I learned to copy proportions properly. I would emulate his style so in that way, maybe he would enjoy working with me. Maybe he would feel more comfortable, even though we share the same blood—which should make us comfortable enough already. But maybe our outward appearances do hold some truth, because we act like the strangers we seem to be.
It was just a short time. We never drew together except for that instance. Even when I roused him to do more with me, play my stupid games. Or just play together. I remember constantly saying his name, filling our big empty house. Every time: no.
Already, my memory of Jack fades. I don’t remember the shape of his money bags, or what I even drew on that poster. I just remember how my brother drew the robber.
Already, I do not remember a single fond memory of us playing together. My mom says we used to be uber close. So close, you couldn’t pull us apart. It’s evident in our earlier photos together. But I really can’t recall anything. And I know that during elementary, we were pulling apart.
So, I wonder if he remembers. If he cares. After all, I’m the only sentimental one here, the only one who even thinks about this dumb stuff. Could we just sit together again?
No. Go away.
Hi Emily! Another fabulous blog. I read this as soon as you posted it and I have made conscious efforts in my day to day life after reading it. I felt guilty. Just as you repeated throughout the blog your brother told you no when you asked to hang out with him. I, similarly, do that to my younger sister more often than I say yes. It’s difficult sometimes because both of our schedules get packed and leave us stressed. However, its not fair to her for me to ruin the time we have together. Soon enough there will be physical barriers between us (AKAdreaded college). I should be excited when my sister asks to braid my hair or when she comes into my room to talk to me about her day.
ReplyDeleteThe one part of your blog I can’t seem to relate to at all is when you said you felt guilty if you showcased your talents if your brother lacked in that area. My mentality is if you got it, flaunt it. I treat my relationship with my sister as a competition. So the second I know I am better at something, you can bet your money that I am going to make my talent known—which is rare, since I don’t have that many talents. I have seen your art Emily and you should definitely flaunt it; it would be an injustice not to.
I hope in the future you and your brother can rekindle that friendship you had when you both were drawing Jack the Robber.
Emily, this blog was deep. I definitely relate to you. I feel like my brother and I are nowhere near as close as we once were, and it definitely feels like I took that time for granted.
ReplyDeleteI think it’s kind of beautiful how you and your brother bonded over drawing—specifically how you reduced your faculty to match his. Also, I find it kind of poetic how you got better at drawing by matching drawings below your level.
The part you shared about the constant rejection from your brother is something I can 100% empathize with. I remember wanting to go out and play in the backyard but my brother—for whatever reason—constantly said no. Looking back, this sounds really sad, but I’m sure it wasn’t alllllways a no; he had to have said yes sometimes, surely.
Also, I feel like your memory of Jack reflects a deep part of memories in general. Whenever I think about times I was most happy or was laughing the most, I never remember specific details but rather the people I was surrounded by during those moments. I think this ties sort of well with your example of you and your brother.
Your blog reminded me to appreciate the moment for what it is, as we truly never know when a routine instance will turn into a last. I really appreciate the vulnerability of this blog. Thank you, Waterbottles.
Before I really get in my feels too hard, beautiful blog as always Emily! This blog reminded me of the lesson we had in Mythology about the differences between folk and pop culture (stick with me on this). The parts of the lesson I will highlight is how they are different by the way they are distributed: pop culture is permanent and reproducible in its format whereas folk culture belongs to a specific group that is spread by those people in a long winded telephone game that allows the culture itself to evolve. I imagine in some ways the character of “Jack the Robber” is almost like a folk character in the sense that he was unique to you and your brother. Because of the nature of folk culture, the community around its creation is very important, and from your description of trying to remember what Jack looked like, it can almost be compared to mourning the loss of a culture that is not contained in a permanent form. The way you recalled the recognition of your abilities made my skin crawl (in a good way), it just hit really close to home. Pretending to be something you aren’t to make another person feel comfortable, only for them to slip away in the end is something I think has happened to a lot of people in general. I hope you are okay, and who knows, maybe your brother does remember this too!
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