Sunny
It feels like fall, fall, fall.
For the first time in a long time, I was told by someone that my handwriting was dirty.
They said things like, “You should write like you can read”, “Are you sure you can do your job like that? If you don’t change, you will definitely have a hard time,” and so on. I was truly disqualified from being a human being.
The person in question is actually my mother, but she doesn’t have a smartphone or a computer, so when she wants to communicate something in writing, she inevitably has to write it down.
I have been told this since I was a child, and I know that if I show my mother my handwriting, she will get angry, so when I hand her a note (which rarely happens), I take it rather seriously. I put a lot of effort into it. However, I am always told that she doesn’t like my writing, or that it’s not good enough. Even at my age, I still get depressed.
It’s true that my writing is dirty. The other day, I had a chance to look at my handwriting from when I was in high school, and to my surprise, it is much worse than it was then. In other words, it has deteriorated.
What in the world has happened to me?
I tried to analyze it in my own way, but could not come up with an answer. I think I worked very hard on a ballpoint pen calligraphy practice book that was sold at a bookstore a few years ago, but maybe that was the reason.
Maybe it was that a high school baseball player who was hitting with great form had lost his farm when he went pro and was coached by a top-notch coach (or maybe not).
Once again, I can somewhat understand the feelings of players who were drafted first overall and failed to develop their form (in my case, the way I write), and once it is broken, it is difficult to get it back.
But there is nothing I can do about it now…. Well, I can type like a demon with blind touch and flick typing, so that’s good enough for me.
We are leaving behind, and this year, too, the migratory birds are departing.
