Dust

I've decided to come out of cyber hibernation for the summer and dust off my keyboard. This has become quite the feat given my activities of late. I truly feel as though I am made of "the dust of the earth". Or at least the dust of the paint shop in any case.

They hired me as a painter because I can paint fake rock, do woodgraining and refinish furniture. I guess I'm a rare breed. Yet in the four days I've been working most of what I've done has just been sanding. As a result, if I'm not careful I leave little heart-shaped cheek marks on any surface I sit on. For the first time since I was released as a missionary (and the first tiem I've done it of my own free will and choice ever) I actually shower every day. My nasal passages demand it.

I've learned a lot since I last posted. I've learned a lot about the world and I've learned a lot about myself. Mostly I've rediscovered my passion for creation. The medium isn't important, I just like to make something from nothing. I love the take the raw materials nad shape them, mold them and put them together to be something.

My new major is perfect for this. Technology and Engineering Education brings everything I loved about theatre and engineering all together and makes it comprehensive. I've found much more of a passion in woodworking than I even thought possible and it just makes me happy. I've learned so much a bout graphic design and the principles behind it simply from being aware--paying attention to the world around me. It's been amazing.

There is one problem with TEE, though. I'm a genetic pack rat. As I continue learning new crafts and mastering them, I find it difficult to part with them. "Why yes, I know this is ugly, but it's the first time I ever used an oxy-acetylene torch...I can't possibly throw it away!" I'm much to attached to the things I have left over and I can't seem to part with them. Scott and I's new apartment just can't handle it all. I think all packrats should each have their own personal museum they can put their life's bounty in just to get it squared away and then they can rest easy at night knowing that all of their little treasures are tucked away, out of sight, safely gathering dust. Though I suppose this would be some irresponsible form of ennabling, so...there goes that idea.

I need a bookshelf. Or two. I have an absurd amount of books for a person my age, and Scott has roughly just as many. I told him we should throw them away, but he said that books make people think we're smart. Perhaps it's a worldly justification, but the packrat was relieved to have any reason at all.

That's all the thought vomit for now.

~R~