i made paper once.

when i was young, and i mean like, really little- i was a crafty kid. and i mean like, really crafty. i used to go to crackpot art studios and i would paint porcelain stuff, and it'd be really wonderful. once, i went with my mom and i painted a plate, she made me a frame for photos. i still have the frame, and my mom has the plate downstairs in the basement, hidden underneath some blankets so it doesn't get destroyed. the crackpot art studios had a camp during the summer, and when i was eight or something around that age i joined it. we made all sorts of weird stuff, like- i recall making a bank that was shaped like a fat cat. i made a hole for the coins and everything. but unfortunately, because it's me, i forgot to hollow out the cat, and so all i had by the end of my week was an ugly cat shaped fat blob with a slit in the back. i cried, i was pretty upset.

another time we had to make our own paper, and i recall having a lot of fun with that. we got to throw a lot of pieces of construction paper together and put it into some goop- it was really cool. they had these like, basket almost like things... like what you sift for gold with, and we put the paper in there. i only made like, three sheets- i wonder what happened to them.

one time we also made these hand prints in sand, that molded. i actually have no idea whether i was in the camp at that point, nor do i really have any recollection of making it- but i know that one time i was sick at home, and this hand print was used as a door holder- the maids were cleaning the house. and here i am, sitting innocently in my room when i hear a loud crack and an "oh shit!" i was amazed- maids swear? turns out one of them had dropped it (god knows how) and cracked it right in half. we have the pieces, and i swear my mom wanted to cut those ladies in half and sue the bits left over. but we just have the pieces lying around.

maybe i'll make her a new one sometime soon, that would be nice.

but all in all i have concluded i would be a terrible artist- because in the long run everyone can paint a piece of clay, everyone can make a fat cat not-bank, everyone can make paper, and my only accomplishment in this world was destroyed by the maids.

...life's a fucking bitch.