I’m going through changes..
Female Genius, raw and untapped
Circling back to my previous blogpost. Where I attempt to flesh out my constrains when dealing with the physical realm. I have now come to a jaw breaking, mouth dropping, fever inducing realisation.
Okay wait. Let’s circle back an inch. Our home is currently wracked by construction. Tile installation. I wanted white wood but we had to settle on hardwood tiles. And so all the doors from the rooms had to be ripped out to accommodate the surge in the surface. I, being paranoid, that some pigeon was going to enter the apartment through a break in the metal mesh, immediately became possessed and almost as if some ancient instruction ran through my nervous system. I jolted up. Pulled out the curtain stopper from my room’s window curtain, pulled the curtain down and began looking for nails and a hammer to make a makeshift barrier. I found the hammer and nails after weeding through the workers tools they left overnight. After doing so, completely unselfconsciously I went to sleep. The next morning I did a something similar and made a makeshift couch from old small mattresses when our current couches were too big to fit through the door. And since then the mattress couch and the curtain partition have daily become essentials.
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In another example. I wanted to journal my thoughts. Old school style. Pen and paper. And so I took my cutest colour flipping sequinned diary and began writing. Only I had lost touch and now my hands couldn’t keep up with my mind. It was unbearable. So I decided to make my own font. Scanned a font making template, edited it, downloaded it and voila. I use it now whenever this urge arises in me to do so.
So it seems my lack of craftiness isn’t a failure of my inability to manipulate my surroundings but I have come to the conclusion that it is because my ideas are too outlandish to be curated. Following recipes, directions, or instructions of any kind makes me want to gouge my own eyes out with a screwdriver. But innately following the rhythm of my intuition while it leads my hands to create makeshift solutions. Absolutely me. It is trademarked amongst my friends that don just gets by. So it seems I am not crafty in the Jackie Kennedy, make things prettier sense but rather the MacGuyver sense. And all my life I repressed this to not seem weird.
It absolutely fills me to the brim with excitement when I break something to make something else out of it. Not knowing the next step. Not having the final product be flawless. Just seeing the hinge hold onto the bandaged fabric. Just for a while. Just sturdy enough to fulfil its purpose for the designated time. Theres a timelessness to it. A raw reverberation of being alive. I made and moved on. A drop of singular consciousness that can be expanded upon but to me I’d rather not over do it because it takes away the fun of it. The fun of making something just for functionality. It’s mechanical and post apocalyptic. Screams of a certain survivalist mentality. Climbing up walls because you’re too lazy to find the keys. A certain gumption. Not loss but rather illiteracy of etiquette unknown to modern society.
Maybe this is a lack of craftiness in the truest sense because there is absolutely no tact involved in how I deal with life. It’s gauche, sure, but how can I put on a show of etiquette keeping my unformed character under wraps, while I’m completely changeable inside. It wouldn’t even make sense. And it’s confusing and manipulative to put up a face to all those that see me switch one phase to another. They know.
But having complete freedom with my methods is something that is absolutely essential for this to work. Now it seems the mission of my life is to reconcile these opposites and find a balance that works. How do I navigate this short term tinkering skill to actually gain more freedom. Theres numerous examples of tinkering, trifling, fooling around. Just uninhibited play.
Who knows what’s next.
