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The more I watch Project Runway and Project Catwalk, the more I think I should have gone to college for fashion design.
The one thing I did know before I even went to college was that I shouldn't be going for journalism and yet I was, but it was like I honestly couldn't see myself doing anything else. Never mind that my grandmother taught me to sew as a kid and I liked it a LOT and that Sukie in "Real Men Don't Make Cheesecake" is terrifyingly like me in high school. Never mind that when I tried to get into a creative summer program I got farther along with my art submission than I did with my writing submission. And never mind that I'm watching these shows and itching to get a working sewing machine so that I can make my own clothes again.
Did I ever mention that my mom used to design kids' clothes for a very small local clothes company around here when I was a kid? I mean, seriously.
And yet ... journalism. Because I'm stupid. (There's a reason I can't write nonfiction, y'all. Amazing how much people don't like it when you make stuff up in that job.)
I mean, if I won the lottery tomorrow I'd probably go back to school and get a fashion degree. I'd go back and learn how to make clothes and construction and design and WHATEVER. Seriously, as frustrating as constructing a dress or an outfit can be, it's the same good kind of frustration I feel when I'm working hard on a story. I can complain and bitch and moan but I enjoy the hell out of it at the same time. I'm just, you know, uneducated.
*hands*
This post brought to you by the part of my brain that's currently considering designing my own damn wedding dress. Like, right now. *sigh*
The one thing I did know before I even went to college was that I shouldn't be going for journalism and yet I was, but it was like I honestly couldn't see myself doing anything else. Never mind that my grandmother taught me to sew as a kid and I liked it a LOT and that Sukie in "Real Men Don't Make Cheesecake" is terrifyingly like me in high school. Never mind that when I tried to get into a creative summer program I got farther along with my art submission than I did with my writing submission. And never mind that I'm watching these shows and itching to get a working sewing machine so that I can make my own clothes again.
Did I ever mention that my mom used to design kids' clothes for a very small local clothes company around here when I was a kid? I mean, seriously.
And yet ... journalism. Because I'm stupid. (There's a reason I can't write nonfiction, y'all. Amazing how much people don't like it when you make stuff up in that job.)
I mean, if I won the lottery tomorrow I'd probably go back to school and get a fashion degree. I'd go back and learn how to make clothes and construction and design and WHATEVER. Seriously, as frustrating as constructing a dress or an outfit can be, it's the same good kind of frustration I feel when I'm working hard on a story. I can complain and bitch and moan but I enjoy the hell out of it at the same time. I'm just, you know, uneducated.
*hands*
This post brought to you by the part of my brain that's currently considering designing my own damn wedding dress. Like, right now. *sigh*
