Of all the things I’ve squeezed with my hands…

Something I may not have shared before is that I’ve always been kind of a crafty dork. It’s just been a really long time since I’ve allowed myself the time to let my Inner Crafting Dork free.

I’ve done a bit of everything. *eyebrow wiggle*  Drawing, painting, sculpture, random bead madness, hemp braiding silliness, all kinds of glue gun insanity, etc and etc.  But college, grad-school, real-job, spawning a human being… so many things replaced my crafting time.

But.

I found this awesome tutorial online recently. And within a day, I was making paper.

I.have.been.making.freakin.paper.

And oddly, this makes me feel… powerful. Bills and junk mail cannot defeat me! I churn them and add flower petals and onion skins! And out comes pretty, crinkly paper.

MUAHAHAHAHA.

It’s also been calming. And somehow therapeutic. Something about the process and the outcome makes me feel happy and peaceful.

And usually, I only feel that way after mocking someone or making a crass remark.  So this is landmark.

Before long, it occurred to me that I might be able to sell the product of my creative therapy.  Then those nagging bitches, Doubt and Insecurity, ganged up with the insufferable hag called Self Deprecation and threw a party in my head. (With Tequila.  Those bitches don’t play, yo.)  Suddenly, I’m wondering if anyone would actually buy my paper. I’m wondering if my paper is actually ugly to everyone but me.

The banner at the party in my head says, “You think your paper is so great, but PS: YOU SUCK and so does your paper, ya dumb beesh.”  (It’s a long banner.  I have a big forehead.)

I think the paper I’ve made is pretty… but would anyone really buy it?  This is where I turn to you guys, in all your wisdom and awesomeness. I need your vote below!

All Hail The Reader Opinion!

The paper is handmade from recycled (technically, upcycled) product (old papers, bills, envelopes, etc) and natural plant fibers (blossoms, petals, onion & garlic skins, etc).  The paper edges are “deckled” or unfinished – I could cut them straight, but I feel they’re so much prettier this way.

Here are some photos of the papers I’ve made so far. (I’m planning on making more colors as I go along.)

Poll time:  Will you please vote on whether I should try to sell my handmade paper?

(And don’t worry, you can be totally honest.  I have no way to know who you are when you vote – you have to pay for that feature, and I’m one cheap ass bitch. Seriously, who pays for that crap?)

Just vote on the little thingie below. I don’t know if it will show up in your feed reader, or email subscriber posts, so if you use those services, would you mind clicking over to vote?

Then I’ll know if I can give Doubt, Insecurity, and Self Deprecation the finger and send them packing or if I should just bend over and let them shove that banner up my butt and get it over with.

If you are a highly visual person?  So, so sorry about that. (But not really.)

_______________________________________________________

EDITED TO ADD:

I had some concern about bleeding of inks on the pages, and some of you guys mentioned it, so I figured there was no time like the present to go ahead and test some sheets.  It was just a small test, but I used a Blue Pentel Rolling Ball Pen and a Black Sharpie on each of 3 pages so far, and was astounded (happily!) that neither bled.  BOOYAH!  There seems to be a good amount of the sizing (added to paper to stop ink bleed when it is manufactured) from the original paper products (bills, flyers, etc) remaining in the end product I’m creating to hinder bleed.  So far, anyway.  Yay!

Cultivated it early, guys.

Theme for February 2nd, 2008: “Narrow”

There’s a sometimes narrow line between “cute” and “freakin’ dorky.”

Looks like I crossed it somewhere between these two ages.

Wearing Calvin Klein, and actually making it look BAD.

And, apparently, I had not learned to appreciate the fine art of brushing my hair, either.

Lotus Carroll.

Representin’ the Dorkness, old school.

.
UPDATE:
Had to add this one, taken 12.06.07, for comparison. Nuthin’s changed!

I got yer hawt right here.

This week’s Showin’ Off On Saturday Challenge is brought to you by The Hawtalucion - the movement to become “uninvisible.” 

Dawn has challenged us all to put together one outfit from clothes we already own that makes us feel good.  We are to “step away from the sweatpants” and Get.Hawt.

Hm. Okay. Go into my closet. Find something to wear… that makes me look good.  I may have forgotten how to do this.

 

I mean. Um.  This is what I look like on any given day:

Except I put on a bra for you, to take this picture.  You.Do.Not. want to see The Rack unfettered. Trust me. I mean – if you were to do something awesome while I was sans bra, and my hands were full?  I could STILL get a nice clapping sound going for you just by jumping up and down. Let that mull for a minute.  Wait for it… wait for it… there’s the look of disgust I was expecting. Alright! 

 

Okay… going into the closet… be right back…

I did it! Got clothes from the closet! How do I look!?

What’s that you say? Ohhh.  They have to be MY clothes?  I can’t choose from John’s side of the closet? Darn. Ok.

 

So.  I guess these are out of the question, then, too?

 

Darn! I was having so much fun doing this….

Going back to the closet…

Ok!  I have got to be looking hot by now!  And these are all MY clothes! What do you think???

No way.  This isn’t flattering?  Hm.  I have clearly forgotten how to put an outfit together.

 

Sexy… I’m trying to look sexy, right?

So, should I wear one of these? Which one?

OH. WAIT. NONE OF THESE FIT ME ANYMORE.  Thanks, Kevin&Leroy and Pattie.

Ok, let me try one more time.

I went into the bedroom looking for these GREAT polka dotted pants I have… but I tripped and fell and this mess got on me:

And somehow, I think this may be what we were going for?

Wait!  Let’s see…Oh. Yes.  The Rack approves.

And The Arse doesn’t look half bad!

 

And the shoes?  Come on, baby. Yeah.

It’s a winner!

 

I’m a stupid dork.

Thirteen (embarassing) Things From My Past That I Shouldn’t Tell Anyone

So I’m Gonna Tell EVERYONE!

1. Yes, it’s true. As a kid, I crushed on NKOTB’s Joey McIntyre. *shoot me for admitting that*

But how can you resist those blue eyes, and that “is it a perm or not?” curly hair? (it WAS curly once)

[*update* upon googling him to find the hyperlink I was going to use, I felt weird looking at his pic. Now I know why I dated this guy for 7 years. Eh?]

2. I considered giving myself an enema before going to the hospital to have Braden. The idea of crapping during labor mortified me. Time issues = no enema before hospital (can you say “my contractions were never more than 3 minutes apart?”). While pushing, I poo’d nicely. I DIDN’T CARE.

3. I was kind of a skank-ho in high school. I probably would have done the entire football team… if they had actually been attractive. Ugh @ going to a skeez, redneck high school.

4. I once actually said, “It’s like I’m a cancer patient…” about all the vitamins I was taking, in front of my (very sweet, kind, and forgiving) Mother-in-Law. Her husband (John’s dad) actually passed away from colon cancer.

I wanted to crawl inside my own butthole and die 0.3 seconds after it came out of my mouth. Even thinking of it now makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

5. I HAVE sharted. It was just sometime last year. And it was OH SO NOT FUNNY, like it was in Along Came Polly.

Seriously? That has to be the BEST word I’ve learned from a movie.

[Thankfully, it happened in our home. But if it happens to you in public, use this information on "How To Hide A Shart."]

6. My mother (hippy to the max) did not want me to shave my armpits or use deodorant. The purchase of such things for me was pretty much refused.

Already being an awkward tween, and now suddenly having stinky, hairy armpits, I was feeling desperate. I didn’t know what to do!

Then, one day, a nice young boy in one of my classes remarked with disgust, “God, Lotus, you could really use some deodorant for that B.O.”

Thanks a lot, assbag. I would love to hit him right in the face. Right now.

So, what did I do?

I stole deodorant. WTH else was I to do?

God, that is so lame. I STOLE DEODORANT.

7. On the way home from a Halloween party when I was in grad school, I suddenly felt quite green. (Could it have been the copious amounts of alcohol consumed?)

I told the driver, pull over now! He wasn’t fast enough. I puked all down the front of my dress (into the floorboard of my own car). Still jumped out onto the shoulder of the very busy highway, because more was coming.

Tore off disgusting, puke-soaked dress… assumed barfing position on ground (on all fours) in my underwear.

Got home. Walked the entire way from the car to my apartment (not a short distance) in my bra and undies. With vampire teeth still in.

CLASSY.

8. On the night that I graduated from high school, I celebrated BIG TIME, by…

Going home and sitting there. Alone.

Pathetic.

9. I have never been able to stop running my mouth. I am kind of embarassed about it whenever I think of how annoying everyone must find me. My teachers would write, “Talks too much,” “Chatty Cathy,” or other such type comments on my take-home reports.

And look at how my “list of 13 things” just goes on and on and on until you think you’re reading 50 MILLION (thanks, Jenny) things.

10. When I was a kid (and really, now, still) I had horribly pokey-out Dumbo-type ears.

Kids literally called me “Dumbo.”

I was humiliated endlessly about my ears. For years of my childhood, I was obsessed with one day having them operated on, so that people would stop thinking I was such a freak.

I hate mean kids. They should be slapped. A lot.

11. I owned a Nelson CD. That needs no elaboration.

12. I was supposed to finish my MA in Psychology in 2 years. It took me 3. While I entertained myself by becoming addicted to internet chat.

Hey, at least I met John during that time, online.

He said, “browneye” in a chat room, and the rest is history.

13. John told me that when we were first dating, he had an interesting experience.

He was visiting me at my apartment in Winston-Salem, NC. We had been hanging out, laughing, having fun, etc. He had to pee. He got up… walked down the hallway, and went into the bathroom. Closing the door, he turned around, and lifted the toilet seat.

And witnessed a large, brown floater.

Sexy or what?

Now, THAT’S how you impress the guy you’re dating into marrying you one day.

So, what’s your embarassing story?

Wanna see more Thursday Thirteen?