Recently, I reintroduced myself to my old friend, the sewing machine. I had five very large windows and access to a room full of free fabric, so I decided that I should make some curtains. Now, I haven't actually sewn anything since I was about 13, besides a few errant buttons. I have fond elementary school memories of helping my mom with sewing projects, making a pair of pajama pants for my Dad one Christmas, and making a pillowcase in 7th grade home ec. However, sometime around 8th grade I stopped sewing. Maybe it was because I strongly, strongly disliked my 8th grade sewing teacher. Maybe it was a misguided attempt to reject stereotypically feminine gender roles. Maybe I just knew my mom wanted me to learn to sew and I was being a punk. Who knows. All I know is that even though all I've made so far is a set of really simple curtains, I am in love with this hobby. The hypnotizing clacking of the machine, the precision involved in measuring, cutting, and pressing, and the sat...
“I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn't forget, I'm alive, I know I'm alive, I mustn't forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that.” --Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine