Craftiness!

I'm feeling oh so very crafty with this nifty little idea. I've had a t-shirt stored with my other clothes for three months now. It has somehow stayed with my clothes through two moves (such is the dorm life) despite me not wanting it. It's a fairly large t-shirt. The kind I used to wear as a pajama top. The kind I no longer wear. As if that weren't enough reason for me to want to get rid of it, it also advertises an apartment complex near campus. The front is plain white with a logo; the back is the logo blown up and colored. In other words, not something I will ever wear.

I've been wanting to make myself an apron for some time now. I've discovered that my crafts and my cooking can get out of hand very quickly and that I tend to wear things I don't want stained when this happens. In trying to come up with a solution, I've been looking up aprons all over the internet and have decided I want a cute little retro thing. The biggest stumbling block is Jo-ann's. As in Jo-ann's has moved fifteen minutes away. As in I don't have a car to get there. So no pretty fabric for a pretty apron yet.

But I needed to cook today and I knew an apron would be a good idea when the soy sauce went splattering. If I do say so myself, I had a stroke of genius. Why not take the t-shirt and see if I could cut an apron out of it?! Brilliant! I never know if my bright ideas are ever going to work, so I decided to try my luck. If it worked, I would have a neat little apron to show off and protect good clothes. If it didn't, well, the t-shirt was free and maybe we can use it as a cleaning cloth.

Lo and behold! Snip off the arms, slit up the sides, cut across the back, cut across the back, snip the remaining strip through the middle, and voila! an apron that fits more perfectly than the original t-shirt.

The Road Less Traveled

(Have I ever mentioned that's one of my favorite poems ever? I may not read much poetry, but something about what you first found beautiful seems to stick with you the rest of your life.)

I suck at keeping up with these things. *sigh*

At any rate, my blogging is taking a different direction again. One of the classes recommended to me by advisers was Form/Technique of Fiction, hereafter known as CRW. It's basically a craft honing class. Interesting stuff. If you're a writer. So I find myself in the interesting predicament of having to become a writer. It's surprisingly fun; I didn't think I'd like it this much.

Here goes nothing. Our very first exercise in class was to write about something we would never do. Maybe something we would never choose to do, something we hope we would never do, something we could never do.

All she'll ever have is a white stone and a hole in the ground. She'll never know how to dance, how to argue, how to be her own person. She was so lovely, so perfect.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Our one chance, my one chance. Wasn't supposed to get sick, wasn't supposed to slip away. Supposed to grow up. Be beautiful. Be successful. Grow old. Bury us.
And instead of bringing us together, she's tearing us apart. Maybe I shouldn't spend my days keeping vigil. Maybe I do know what's passed is gone. But I can't help it. I can't help waking up hearing her crying for attention.
It's time to let go, I think. I'll never speak her name again. Just the thought of her sears my heart. If I can stop myself saying her name, I might be able to look normal again. I'm going to walk away from this place now. I'm not coming back until I'm carried through the gates. I can do this. One in front of the other. Going, going, going.