12 July 2011

i suppose i did this to myself

As it is summer, I now have time to do things that I cannot during the school year. Unfortunately, this newfound freedom has given me the opportunity to rekindle a relationship that I classify as tumultuous at best. I’m talking, of course, about my relationship with arts and crafts, which I lovingly refer to as DIY (do it yourself).

I don’t remember when I realized that I was crafty, but as a child I always found myself fidgeting, perpetually seeking something to do with my hands (insert inappropriate joke here yourself, because I’m not going to). Over time, I have taught myself to sew, knit, crochet, embroider, and cross-stitch. In other words, if my previous post about being an old woman didn’t convince you, these tidbits ought to do the trick.

These little hobbies may seem harmless to you, but you, my friend, are wrong. Arts and crafts can consume your soul faster than you can ask me why my bedroom smells like craft glue and sadness.

It all starts with an introduction. A fleeting glance, a bit of hearsay, maybe even online research, for you modern folk out there. When I come across something I like, something doable, I am instantly attracted. I have to know more about it. How can I do something like that for myself? I find the way that makes the most sense and, while the pace varies depending on my initial interest, I pursue.

Once I figure out exactly what it is I need to do, I begin to feel myself being drawn in. Out of curiosity, I ask around about similar experiences, taking mental notes about what to do and what to avoid. I invest both time and money into preparing to take the plunge. All this preparation builds until it spills over and I have to do something.

Before I know it, I’m hooked. I spend every waking hour devoted to my new hobby/obsession, neglecting to eat, sleep, and converse with less insane people (I still have time to talk to myself). I have to finish this, dammit.

After the first project is finished successfully, I become insatiable, immediately moving on to increasingly more difficult tasks, sometimes working on multiple ones simultaneously. Anything to get my fix.

Inevitably, this whirlwind phase must come to an end. I realize that my fingers are now blistered, and there is superglue under my fingernails that will probably never come off. Either that or I lose interest and seek something else to do.

Eventually I stop altogether, and may or may not return. In the meanwhile, I’m going to continue making friendship bracelets and painting my nails. Not simultaneously, of course. They would ruin each other.

Yes, it is taped to my laptop. And yes, that is a unicorn murdering ponies in front of a rainbow.


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