So. Here it is. The peice that this [link]
The story is this:
I had an idea for a piece and it was awesome
, so I sketched it. But then I got stuck on what color the background should be. My mom mentioned blue and my instincts were all Yes! Blue! I knew it!
but my OCD was all Blue doesn't fit! What does mom know about this?
After my brain had finished duking it all out, I painted the background blue. Then my OCD freaked out because the piece was ruined. Not only was the background not supposed to be blue, but now I could barely see where to put the ink. It was unsalvagable (is that a word?) and not worth continuing.
So I chucked it accros the lawn. Then I was frustrated at having thrown it in such a wimpy way, so I walked out and chucked it again. Oh how piece flew! Then the wind caught it and dropped it on the roof. Guilt kicked in, bringing logic and an awareness of my tantrum with it. So I retrieved the piece.
My instincts wouldn't let go, however, and pushed me to finish it. So I did.
I guess it's not as big of a failure as my OCD made it out to be.