Other than reminiscing about the way I "used to write", I also make things.
It's a hobby. Okay, perhaps it's more like a compulsion. Maybe even an obsession. I'm not sure if it's curable.
I see things (garbage really) and the first thing I think is what I could make from it.
At times this can be highly inconvenient and my living spaces can begin to look more like a I've let a monkey loose with a pair of scissors and some craft supplies.
Positive side: on a good day I can whip up a throw pillow in under 60 seconds from an old teddy bear and a discarded t-shirt
I look at green beer bottles lying in the gutter and think 'glass pendulum earrings'.
I see empty soft drink cans and think 'Christmas decorations'.
I see sticks and think 'strung together, that would make a cute natural mobile".
I wonder where this fits in with my life.
I wonder whether it will remain a hobby/compulsion/obsession or if I'll actually get to use this drive for something useful one day. I sure hope so.
I leave you with piccies of my recycled Christmas decorations. Made from Coke cans, light bulbs and old newspapers.
I keep having to tell myself to continue crafting all over everything. Even when I'm tired and I have 3 waking hours to myself and I have every self given excuse to sleep instead.
I tell myself this to keep the bug alive.
It may not be an illness, an unhealthy obsession or a nasty compulsion.
I think I need this thing. It's so part of me, my relationship with this drive seems symbiotic.
So in the light of that, I do hope this thing is not curable.
Smiles,
Meiche.
