riding the manic wave?

Okay, let me tell you a story about the current state of my life. I want to preface this story by letting y'all know that while I'm probably not like, the best I've ever been, I'm probably the most stable and balanced I've ever been. Which is something. Not like, working out on a consistent basis kind of stable, but paying my bills on time and walking my dog regularly kind of stable. 

Right. 

On Tuesday at work, I waded through what can only be described as a 'shit storm' for eight hours and reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wanted to have a drink or seven when I got done. But then I was like, 

"Sare, what happened to better choices? What happened to really liking not being hungover at work? What happened to PROJECTS?" 

And then of course I replied. "You're right, Sare. I totally need a project."

And then in struck me like a manic wave. Like a manic Tsunami. 

Looming. 

Don't know what that is? Don't worry. I will explain everything. Let's rewind for a sec. It all started out when I picked up a piece of 'art' at a local thrift store for nary a dollar about two months ago. About a month after that, I hung it in my kitchen. Two weeks after that, my friend complimented it. 

It looks like this:

It's a woven wall hanging. Pretty straightforward. But that compliment stuck with me. And I just knew, deep in my bones, with the accuracy of a trend forecaster, that loom-woven art was going to have a HUGE revival in the coming months. 

I've actually never been more sure of anything in my life, and I make a lot of snap decisions. I'm not a waffler. I trust the gut.

So I kind of back-burnered this knowledge, because what am I going to do, buy up all the loom woven art I can find and then sell it at a major profit when it gets big with the hipster set? Possibly, but not if I actually have to make an effort. 

And then, the manic wave struck. And boy, did it strike hard. 

I would become a loom artist. Not only would I weave, I would make my own looms. The weaving would make me wise and balanced and healthy. Weaving was the next chapter in my life, obviously.  

And I swear to you, I could see it. Sitting in my dimly lit office, scouring pinterest for tutorials and counting my minutes until freedom, I was perhaps only hours away from a radical change. And boy, do I dig a radical transformation.

I could almost see my etsy shop and eventually moving to an adobe house in the desert and living off my art with super bohemian friends. You know, the ones with a wavy gray hair and flowing outfits? Yeah. We were drinking red wine out of heavy goblets and doing whatever it is that desert bohemians do. Weave on looms, I suppose. Compliment each other's loom tapestries. My imagination ran wild, and I hadn't even left my office yet. Never mind the fact that I have no desire to live in the desert, because that was an integral and highly desirable detail of my future, I was sure of it. 

Finally my moment of freedom came and I called my loving boyfriend, frantically explaining why I wasn't coming home to see him before he had to go to work. I ran out of breath trying to explain it in one sentence because I didn't want to waste time on words when my art was calling. Obviously the boyfriend replied with "What is this, the 17th century?' And then offered, somewhat begrudgingly, support of my plan. He indulges my whims. It's why I keep him around.

I spent the next two hours driving around to various thrift stores and well known craft  imporiums, frantically looking for my 'mediums.' You know, earth toned yarn of various thicknesses and stuff. 

It wasn't until leaving a Jo-Ann Fabrics store with yet another four or so bundles of yarn that I started coming out of the haze slightly. Which, since I wasn't even home and had just spent over 50$ on yarn, was really way too soon to start losing steam.  

Fast forward a few hours and a few failed attempts to create a loom out of sticks pulled out of the firewood pile in my backyard, some of which had obviously been chewed on by my dog somewhat aggressively. Because sticks=nature=rustic=much more desirable, in my opinion. I finally gave up and wrapped some string around an empty picture frame. LET THE GAMES BEGIN.

The game initially sucked, actually. I wrapped the string too close together and it was practically impossible to get good at the whole under-over motion.

This is one failed attempt:

Anyway. I finally finished the loom from the old picture frame after weeks of avoidance and hours of actual weaving.. And you know what I realized? Weaving is fucking boring and also where was my wine? I mean, I tried, I really did. And if I can get some weird hippie weaving circle going, maybe it would be bearable. And then I thought, 'You know, this is just the town full of weirdos to find some loom-dreaming enthusiasts.' And I decided to read a book instead. 

So much for projects.




UPDATE: Turns out I kind of like the monotony of weaving. Below is my recent second attempt.