I feel like i’m always trying to work on a project. My old roommate used to tell me that I was always in some sort of mission. The thing is that one time I decided I wanted a new dresser, but instead of buying a new one I felt like painting my old one. Well, I went to Lowes and I bought sandpaper and spray paint and ended up making him help me sand the dresser down at 2AM because I couldn’t do it on my own and he felt bad about how pathetic I looked. The dresser ended up terrible so I bought a plastic bin at Walmart instead. And this other time he and my brother drove around the entire city looking for John Mayer’s CD because I mentioned that that was all I wanted for Christmas and he had no idea who John Mayer was. Umm not my fault, no one forces them to only listen to Lil Wayne. Anywho, that’s my life. Little projects. I once decided I wanted to try painting, so I bought watercolors and paper and did a whole mess and called it my masterpiece. I suck at painting. Then I wanted to try the piano. Although I’m no Beethoven, that dream hasn’t quite been killed yet… I can play one heck of an intro to Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now”. Then I bought a guitar. Then I bought a ball of yarn to try knitting. Hated it with a fiery passion. Then I wanted an expensive camera to try photography, except I’m too cheap to fork up $500 for a Canon Rebel. Then I saw a ‘how-to’ on a pretty skirt and thought about sewing. Hell no.

The point of this all is that I have this ridiculous, quite embarrasing urge to always be creating something. I don’t get it. I have a typewriter at home because it’s not sufficient for me to just write on my journal with a black pen. Every now and then I want to type it out and glue it on my journal and decopage that sucker with magazine cut outs and the whole shabang. I’m not even good at this stuff half the time and it ends up being a sticky mess and the pages all get wrinkled cause I put too much glue… but I love it. I love creating. I love trying. I usually don’t even buy things I feel I can make. Even if I never end up making them. Or I do and I spend more money creating a disaster than what it cost at the store. The point is in the creating. In the making. And even though I mostly suck, I’d be miserable if I couldn’t do it. I’d be bored and sad and probably with alot of cats if I didn’t have art. If I didn’t seek it or try it or surround myself with it.  I don’t know. I just can’t picture myself working everyday and coming home and watching TV and being okay with that. And the only consistent thing I’ve ever done in my life is write but when there are no words to say then theres cookies to bake or guitar strings to play or languages to learn or old suitcases to try and make into chairs.

xo