I work at a craft store. I frame stuff. Like REALLY freaking frame stuff. This is not your grandma's framing job.
I know this store inside-out, upside-down. No, we do not have rubber bands. Nor garage sale stickers. We do have rock tumblers. But not sewing machines. Or cross stitch or embroidery. You can tell me what kind and color of yarn you need, and I can take you to it, and tell you when we'll be getting more.
We do not have giant bumble bees. We do not have mini zen garden kits. Nor do we have soccer keychains. But holy hell, people! Make them! We have everything to make your stupid stuff with! And if we don't, we have an alternative you can use. Sometimes, I want to take these people and just shake them, then slap them.
Then I wonder if it's just me, just the way my brain works. Like Sylar can see how to fix a clock. Maybe I'm a fix-it person. I'm not so much artistic or creative, I can just think my way out of a box.
Someday, I'm going to make a book and it'll be titled "All the things I made from Michael's while working there." And it will be filled with the craziest shit. But then people would be too amused and astonounded, and it'd just make me madder.
11/14/08
11/13/08
A few wishes
First, I wish to make a museum. Like OMSI. Or the water resource center we visited today.
Second, I'd like to follow the Lewis and Clark trail and stop at very place on the way.
Also, I would like to be a sleuth, with my own agency.
Second, I'd like to follow the Lewis and Clark trail and stop at very place on the way.
Also, I would like to be a sleuth, with my own agency.
11/12/08
11/11/08
11/10/08
Once
I made it out to my studio once. Once. Once.
I couldn't move. I had too much to do. So much I haven't done.
There were penguins and people and queens and masks and frames and signs and fabric and houses.
And each raised there little fists to me.
Where have you been? I was supposed to be done weeks ago, you promised!
Look, there's too much guys! I told them. If I work on the penguins, I'll feel guilty about the people. And if I paint a mask, the fabric will get jealous.
I can't do this right now, I need more time!
Then I left.
I couldn't move. I had too much to do. So much I haven't done.
There were penguins and people and queens and masks and frames and signs and fabric and houses.
And each raised there little fists to me.
Where have you been? I was supposed to be done weeks ago, you promised!
Look, there's too much guys! I told them. If I work on the penguins, I'll feel guilty about the people. And if I paint a mask, the fabric will get jealous.
I can't do this right now, I need more time!
Then I left.
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