I built this box
I can't begin to explain my contradictions, why I feel incredibly strong about some things and don't care about others. I don't want to explain it, either. I try to make decisions in motion, as instantaneous as the moment itself.
I can't begin to explain how my detail-oriented self goes about choosing it's targets, where it lets up and allows breath and where it becomes very important that everything is perfect. It wavers with my determination to finish a task. One apartment I lived in, I hand-screwed over 20 screws into the walls to hang paintings because I didn't have nails on hand until my hands were blistered up and I was beaded with sweat. When I stepped back and realized the places I'd put paintings were...unique and often lopsided...I called it intentional and left it for a whole year. About other things, like working with computers, consistency is very important to me and I work hard to make everything clean and organized.
I can see how watching me might drive someone up a wall. If I really think about it, the tasks themselves drive me crazy too, so I don't think about it. I just do what I do, sometimes strikingly clean, sometimes strikingly messy, and embrace the contradiction.
Today I built this garden box by hand.
It's the first time in, maybe ever that I've built something. I admire the DIY-ers but I wouldn't categorize myself among their ranks. I sat outside in the sticky heat getting devoured by swarms of mosquitoes for hours, hand-nailing very long nails into wood that doesn't quite fit together.
Colt criticized me every step of the way, too. I put the nails on the wrong side of the wood, I have a sharp end sticking out on the interior where we have to dig with our hands, the nailing was too loud when the baby was sleeping - and yes, I look at it now from an aesthetic point of view - a craftsman's point of view - and it could be better.
Scrappy craftsmanship and all, I'm pretty proud.
I can't begin to explain how my detail-oriented self goes about choosing it's targets, where it lets up and allows breath and where it becomes very important that everything is perfect. It wavers with my determination to finish a task. One apartment I lived in, I hand-screwed over 20 screws into the walls to hang paintings because I didn't have nails on hand until my hands were blistered up and I was beaded with sweat. When I stepped back and realized the places I'd put paintings were...unique and often lopsided...I called it intentional and left it for a whole year. About other things, like working with computers, consistency is very important to me and I work hard to make everything clean and organized.
I can see how watching me might drive someone up a wall. If I really think about it, the tasks themselves drive me crazy too, so I don't think about it. I just do what I do, sometimes strikingly clean, sometimes strikingly messy, and embrace the contradiction.
Today I built this garden box by hand.
It's the first time in, maybe ever that I've built something. I admire the DIY-ers but I wouldn't categorize myself among their ranks. I sat outside in the sticky heat getting devoured by swarms of mosquitoes for hours, hand-nailing very long nails into wood that doesn't quite fit together.
But I don't care and I don't think tomato plants will either.
Scrappy craftsmanship and all, I'm pretty proud.
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