Everyone has their unique skills. I have some skills. I also have some not-skills. I don't want to go so far as to say I'm terrible at things. We're taught not to say that aren't we? We're supposed to say things like I can do this or I can do that. I think I can. I think I can. We're supposed to be the little engine that could.
For years I was going to be crafty. Yes, I was going to be the ultimate crafty, artsy, diy, domestic diva.
There are people out there who are masters of cricket machines, glue dots, paper, and stamps. They bring their creations in for all to see. "I made this out of old tin cans, some chewed gum and a bent toothpick. Isn't it amazing what you can do by adding a little glitter? It only took me 47 hours too!" And it looks like the Taj Mahal. So exquisitely beautiful that I want to emulate this ability to make masterpieces out of paper and glue. I told myself the PC thing - I can do this!
But I'm older now and wiser and I know there comes a time when you just have to admit to yourself the realities of life. I know my limitations. No amount of political correct terminology can compensate for globbed glue, splotched paint and domestic atrocities. Being craftily challenged, or going in a different domestic direction is little consolation.
Perhaps there should be a support group for people like me. Craftymess anonymous. We could get together and discuss our inability to come up with our own creative projects. Or how we can't seem to get our work to look like the example. We could talk about how we're people too. We're the ones who couldn't color in the lines as children. The ones who made the princesses' hair green instead of yellow. The ones whose dolls, and toys and clothes looked like it'd been through a holocaust to the utter dismay of our mothers. (And what's worse, we didn't notice they looked that way.) We were so busy running around, living and playing in the mud some gene didn't get developed properly. There's probably some bit of DNA somewhere in my makeup that can be labeled 'doesn't work well with paper.'
Or maybe there should be an advocacy group for crafty projects gone horribly wrong. Save our crafts! People could create awareness for these horribly deformed, abandoned projects and raise funds to rescue them.
Or perhaps, there should be a place you can drive, far far away, through desert and wilderness to a desolate, obscure place to toss these projects into a silent, dark hole and burn them. Then we can bury our shame and move on with our sad, uncrafty lives.
Until the next project inspires us....
