On… blogging?

New year, new city, new home, new projects… time for a new blog.  That’s not to say that I didn’t intend to start this thing a long time ago, but the newness of everything else has inspired me to really and truly get to work on my next Big Plan.  All of this is at least two years overdue.  My parents would probably say longer than that.  At least they were patient enough not to kick me out before I finagled my transfer out here (thank you, Chase, for setting this in motion – I owe you a beer).

That said, I’m not here to talk about me.  I’m here to talk crafting.  It is not just a hobby, but an addiction.  I eat, I sleep, I breathe, and I craft.  About half the boxes I moved into this apartment a month ago were filled with craft supplies.  More than half if you count the cooking gear – and I do.  More on that later.

So why do I craft?  I’m sure it has to do with a general inability on my part to sit still and focus on any one thing at a time, but there is also a deeply spiritual element to creating.  Some people golf.  Some people collect cats.  Some people collect kids.  I make stuff.  I collect the pieces.  I put them together.  Sometimes I am dissatisfied and take them apart again, but generally speaking, I find that I am happier with what I make than what is available in standard retail at the prices I am willing to pay, which I suppose brings me to my next reasons for crafting: I am cheap, and I am picky.  You know the old addage – “If you want something done right…” yadda ya.

I suppose it would be disingenuous of me to leave out my final drive for crafting.  I am pretty unreasonably tightly wound.  My job is not the most pleasant experience of my life, and I tend to get overly stressed in general.  I could just get very angry and yell and hit things, but I have learned over the years that yelling causes people to dislike you, and hitting things causes you as much pain as what/whoever you hit.  So I get it all out of my system via knitting needles, or crochet hooks, or exceptionally messy drawing implements, or sewing machine, or clay, or…  More often than not, my gifts were hand-crafted not with love, but with anger and strife.  (Sorry to recipients of my work – I promise I wasn’t mad at you at the time.) In other words, I craft so I do not kill people.

So for the next year, I hope to share my crafting adventures with anyone who cares to read them.  If I’m very good, there may soon be more to see here than my ramblings, but I have a very strict policy of keeping future plans to a minimum, and letting things happen naturally.  So stay posted!


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