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June 24, 2005

340: Little Dear!

I'm not sure how I found Little Dear, but I like it very much. Guess which of the "fatkitties" I like best.

(Well, duh, it's the pirate one.)

Most people respond to warm, sunny weather by going outside. Not me. I'd much rather be inside, which is where I intend to be this weekend. I haven't had a chance to try out the sewing machine Pete gave me for my birthday, so maybe I'll give it a shot.

Pete thoughtfully included a bunch of starter-kit projects in my gift, but despite being an otherwise very cautious person, I am highly impatient. I'll probably go headfirst into something I designed myself, and that's that. If it all goes to hell, I'll just sigh and accept that this was my fate. I hate trying on clothes, so I'll just buy what I think is my size and when I get it home and discover that it's size sizes too large... well, that's just my fate. Sigh.

I didn't take the pirate table slow, I just went at it like a crazy person and now we have this awesome pirate table that I was obviously fated to create and own. So, I'll just sew something I want without going through the paces beforehand, and that's that. I picked up a Japanese how-to book on making insanely cute little stuffed animals, ignoring the fact that it's WRITTEN IN JAPANESE.

I just haven't had any time to work on anything lately. I don't mean that in a corny hipster way. I'm not painstakingly crafting craptacular verse about my deep, deep feelings. I'm not wasting paint and canvas to bring the world my special breed of pseudo-political and highly hypocritical righteousness. I can make things, and I don't have to infuse them with any sort of "meaning" derived from hours spent with a therapist tired of hearing my whining. Thankyouverymuch.

I hate art supply stores. Why are they always so illogically stocked and organized? Who spent all afternoon carefully creating this beautiful "you break it, you bought it" sign out of cardboard and beautiful, mock graffiti in magic marker? Why weren't you helping customers instead? And can you please ring up customers without frowning at their purchases, you loser?

I hate that these stores are seemingly designed to put you in a position to almost always require you to ask for assistance from some foggy-minded sack of bones who can barely focus on your words long enough to offer any help.

The unhelpful druggie art store employee is a headache, but a much smaller headache than the art store employee who clearly hates you and can barely mask his resentment that you, of all people, want to do something creative. It's similar to the sort of resentment I've gotten from art students who scoff at the fact I got a degree in art history -- that's a rant for another time. I don't need the approval of some lazy Neil Gaiman fan who, undoubtedly, dresses up as the Crow for Halloween EVERY FREAKING YEAR. I hate to gamble, but I'm willing to bet I could out-create someone so immature they deem professionalism to be below them. So, any slow-moving, apathetic art store employees who want to rumble... let's do this.

I thought so. Punk.

Posted by ashley at June 24, 2005 11:09 AM

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