I Become a Do-It-Yourselfer

The Do-It-Yourselfer is a member of the species Homo interneticus. Among their defining features is a propensity to write about craft projects on their blogs.

Oh, science.

In terms of field observation, the Do-It-Yourselfer is one of the most compelling specimens of Homo interneticus, and I consider them second only to the Youtuber in their ability to provide hours of procrastina.... ahem, entertainment. In my career as an internet voyeur, my interaction with Do-It-Yourselfers has been limited to reading their tutorial posts and feeling deeply impressed. Then the adorableness of their lives starts to annoy me, and I lay on my bed, feeling uncool and dejected.

Today, however, I broke through some mental barrier and took my first step to becoming one of those people.

It all began with a trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond. As often happens, going to that store triggered an impulse to buy everything, you know, just to be a well-organized and fully competent adult. Since I'm moving to London in about a month, however, and already want to bring more things than I can possibly fit in my suitcase, buying things is out of the question. The problem was, I really, really wanted a jewelry organizer, since my previous storage schemes have never given my jewelry the attention it deserves. Back at home, I was regretting the fact that I hadn't purchased the jewelry organizer when I realized that I could easily make one myself. With things I had laying around my room! What luck!

First, I found a box that had just been sitting in my room, looking pretty but not fulfilling any real purpose.

I decided to glue some mesh fabric to the inside top of the box so that I could hang my earrings. The bottom section will hold bracelets and things. 

So I measured and cut and hot glued. And it looked like crap. 

The hot glue had made a mess, and I needed to cover it up if I wanted to salvage this project. So I found some ribbon and made a border around the netting. Better, but still a bit like a kindergartner's art project. 

Then, out of nowhere, came one of my rare strokes of creative brilliance. I was contemplating solutions to the problem of the hot glue bleeding through the ribbon, when I thought, "Why don't I cover the splotchy parts with nail polish?" 

So I did, and it ended up looking pretty great, if I do say so myself. 

Not to mention that the box is lightweight and can be filled with stuff during the packing process, making it a totally reasonable thing to include in my fairly pathetic collection of things I'm taking to London. 

Thrifting with Sarah and Kimberly

About two years ago, I went through a phase during which I bought most of my clothes at thrift stores. This wasn't because I was broke or particularly liked what the thrift stores had to offer, but rather because I thought I would be very cool to have a skirt last owned by somebody's grandmother. Of course when I actually wore these thrift store "finds," I would invariably realize that they were not only outdated, but also unflattering and fairly ugly. After a summer of dressing this way, I ventured back into the mall, rediscovered the joys of H&M and began to dress like a normal person again.

Until yesterday afternoon, the urge to go thrifting had lain dormant for about a year and a half, but then, for some inexplicable reason, I decided that it would be fun to check out the new Volunteers of America Thrift Store. The fun didn't manifest itself immediately, and as I stared blankly at the racks organized by color and ran my hands over the synthetic fabrics, I considered how some past version of myself would have probably bought that floor-length, button-down, rose-printed monstrosity of a skirt, full of honorable intentions to cut it shorter for improved cuteness. Current me, though, was looking for usability and practicality.

I got relatively quickly back into the rhythm of thrifting - working through the racks; giving each item a quick glance; assessing for color, pattern, cut; subjecting anything that passes on the three previous counts a closer inspection - and within 10 minutes I had picked out a handful of potentially wearable skirts to try on. In the dressing room I remembered the first rule of thrifting, namely try everything on.  In the case of thrift-store clothing, it's impossible to know whether the size listed on the tag (if there is one) corresponds to current standard sizes, so I always - absolutely always - make that often frustrating trip to the dressing room.

After much debate, I ended up buying two floral print skirts and a red vintage purse.

I wanted to end this post by saying something really discerning about how my decision to buy usable clothing at a thrift store marks some profound change in the way I view myself, or how buying cheaper used clothing means that I've become more financially responsible. Really, though, I don't think either of these things are strictly true. What is true is that I've been reading too many of those Thought Catalog essays, and they're filling me with this desire to make every minor detail of my life sound much more significant than it actually is. Sometimes a skirt is just a skirt, and even if you only paid a dollar for it, owning it doesn't mean that you've grown up. It just means you have to find another skirt hanger.

My Trendy Hipster Hobby: I don't have one

I was flipping through a magazine the other day, and I came across this tampon ad featuring a girl who writes a blog about knitting. Immediately I think: "I'm not as cool as her." Given my history with knitting, this thought is fairly surprising.

I first considered the craft when I was probably about 10 years old, and I bought some knitting needles and yarn with the intention of making really amazing things. Except the fate of the knitting needles was to be props in my make-believe games, specifically in those that required me to impersonate an old lady. Just go with it - my childhood pretend games were pretty convoluted.

Maybe four years later, Kim (my sister - she writes here sometimes) decided to learn to knit for real, and she tried to convince me to do the same. I, however, adopted the knitting-is-for-old-ladies-and-spinsters attitude. I had realized neither that spinsters no longer exist, nor that all properly cool girls these days must behave and dress like old ladies from time to time. In addition to being oblivious to cultural trends, I failed to acknowledge how cool it would be to knit my own scarves. Seriously, if I could knit, I would knit scarves by the thousands.

In many ways, my relationship with knitting resembles my relationships with all other hobbies. This means that I pretended to do a lot of things as a child, became too cool to even consider doing these things as a teenager, and then really wished I could do them as a young adult. Hypothetically, I know that it's never too late to take up a hobby, but every time I try, the experience is somewhat akin to dying my hair, in that it seems exciting at first, but I eventually decide that the upkeep requires more effort than it's worth. At least this has been my experience with my forays into photography, sewing, drawing, and writing poetry.

Don't take this to mean that I spend all of my time doing nothing. I cook things from time to time and do what I like to call food-ography:

Occasionally I acquire random new skills, like sailing:

I read things, I write things, I listen to music, but I don't really make anything by hand. Sometimes this troubles me, because I really like the idea of coming up with a concept and then creating this thing from raw(ish) materials. The fact that I read a lot of blogs by very creative people only compounds the problem. They're like, "Oh, look, I woke up today and decided to hand paint a rug" And I'm like, "Cool. I painted my toenails last week." 

I think the secret to having creative hobbies is having creative ideas, and maybe this is where my major failing lies. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Maybe I don't make anything because every time I think, "I'd really like a new shirt," I never consider making my own or repurposing one from a thrift store. Usually I just go to Forever 21. 

Could it be to my advantage, though, to begin making more things as I take on my grad school debt? Quite possibly. Maybe the desire to look really cool won't inspire me to be creative, but maybe financial necessity will...

Maybe learning to knit wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.