#76 – Boredom in 2025

The biggest trend I think I’ve seen this year is the sentiment that everything feels boring right now. Whether it is fashion, film, or books, the art of storytelling is supposedly dead. This phenomenon has even crept into my unpredictable and exciting world of K-pop, and up until yesterday, I’d say I agreed. But as I sit here, I would like to put forth a different thesis.

Escapism from the Super Massive Blackhole

What if everything feels boring because you are running on empty? This year was the first time since discovering K-pop in 2022 that I felt bored and indifferent to my favorite bands. Some of this was due to outside forces beyond my control, like controversies, military service, and straight-up evil in the case of Taeil. Yet, some of this boredom, I believe, was caused by how much I was leaning on these safe spaces to find joy when nothing felt joyful or safe. There has been a constant pulse of uncertainty, like tectonic tremors, making us all question the point of it all. There is such a dreary air. A hopelessness, especially in people my age and younger, who are not able to reach milestones due to broken systems. Since I discovered the band Stray Kids, I run to their music for a safe place. But in 2025, I had stretches of time where even SKZ had no appeal. I had listened to every release over and over again until even their most addictive tracks had no appeal. I couldn’t believe how much I was craving a new album until a week before Karma released. As the week progressed, I could feel a hunger for a happy distraction. This year has been the first time my usual pick-me-ups have felt numb, and I wonder if one prong of this boredom we seem to be feeling isn’t coming from this exact situation.

To be honest, I think this could be why K-pop Demon Hunters exploded in popularity; it was new and fun when things seemed darker than ever. Same thing with Twice and their Lollapalooza performance, it was a night where everything felt normal for a second.

Have I Entertained You?

This attention economy is reminding me of that iconic line from Gladiator, and I don’t like what it is doing to art, music, storytelling, fashion, all of it. There is no room to reflect and craft something beautiful. We are pushing things too fast. I’ve been reflecting on this for a while. I see commentary on trends, relating to fashion, which usually goes something like – there is nothing new, everything and nothing is trending, yada, yada, yada. Sprinkle in a bit about clothing quality from the past, and the brain rot of the algorithm, which is killing creativity and subcultures because of a curated vitality. Like it’s a beast unleashed upon modernity, instead of stopping to think critically about it.

It’s obvious after some consideration that making things for vitality is not the same as making something to stand the test of time. Modern romance novels are being created for TikTok vitality first, and quickly, to keep up with the lazy decision of publishing houses to invest in AI over true writers. We blame the current author pool for a lack of creativity instead of holding publishing houses accountable for ruining their reputation through unethical practices. Because, truly, as an author, why would you feel inspired to create a story like Jane Austen when this is the current state of publishing? You could make a true work of art, and be rejected because they would rather steal work to create the same story through AI, or the publisher doesn’t want to take a chance on a good story when the algorithm is fickle and shallow.

Boring People Are Bored

AI is doing exactly what I expected; lazy people are becoming lazier, except that it is currently being rewarded. We used to know how to entertain ourselves. We used to know how to create, enjoy, and take pleasure in things, but I think AI is a snare that is making people boring, and it doesn’t have to. AI is an easy way out of daily life. It can be a friend, a relationship you don’t have to nurture, but is hollow. It can create art, but you will have no artistic skill of your own as a result. It can write you a book, without telling a story. It can create a music video, like JUMP for Blackpink, without any effort from the actual talent, and create a nightmare image of Rose with Jungkook’s facial structure. Do you see the pattern? It’s like cheating your way through school; it produces nothing and wastes precious resources, like time, or in the case of AI, drinking water and electricity.

Cringe > Innovation

What I have seen as the most flagrant accusation of boredom has been the dissonance of innovation and cringe. Let’s take, for example, Ceremony. It’s a song that has no chorus until the end of the song. It’s layered, has high production value, and features something new for Stray Kids and boy band offerings. But what do I see online? It’s awful. Stray Kids are braggy and loud, no talent. K-pop is boring; everything sounds the same. Except, Stray Kids, it’s too experimental. No wait, it sounds like all their other songs, yawn….etc. How can we have the audacity to complain about being bored while we punish bands for taking risks? It’s not just Stray Kids, I have seen similar criticism being launched at Nmixx, NCT, Ateez, Twice, Aespa…the list goes on.

It’s no different when it comes to the world of fiber arts. People complain about how crochet and knitting are getting boring and want new things to make, because everyone is knitting the same things, yet don’t branch out from a few massive pattern makers, like Sari Noorland, Petite Knit, and Andrea Mowry, to name a few. There are so many smaller creators crafting joyful patterns that would disrupt the slump, but no one wants to stand out these days.

I think as this year enters its final act, we should decide what we value more: being entertained? Or being authentic? Do you want to truly discover something new? Do you want to dig deeper for something fresh? It requires us to act, to search, and to participate, because we are allowing ourselves to become boring people, and it is spreading across culture, where it will stay unless we choose to be interesting again. I get it. This year has been demoralizing, and it’s made me feel like giving up many times, but there is always a reason to keep going. What if your big idea is the thing that makes this dull and dreary world sparkle again? You could be the change we need, so stop scrolling and find something that ignites passion in your heart once again!

August 27, 2025

#67 – Decorating, Snow, and Small Upgrades

Christmas knitting is full swing and I am yet again behind! This happens every year to me. Oh well. But, this is one of my favorite seasons of the year and I wanted to share some tidbits that have made this year a little merrier.

This is the first Christmas in our house. It was special moment unboxing our decorations that have moved with us from apartment to apartment that can now be rested here. Some are heirloom pieces that lived a life long before I was born, such as the nativity my Grandma cast in the 1970s. Others are ornaments given by piano students.

The Christmas village was my mom’s and I remember putting it out in on the third floor, our little apartment within my grandparents’ house. I can’t believe the journey it has been on with me through my life. I am also excited to have a staircase to decorate with garland like my mom and Grandma have done each Christmas. It makes it feel like home.

The next thing that has filled this time with joy, has been the fresh paint of my sewing room. Kyle graciously primed the woodwork and painted this room while I was sick. It satisfyingly looks like the color scheme of my bedroom at my mom’s before an ice dam melted through my ceiling in 2015, destroying it. I’ve missed this mauve-lavender color. I took the opportunity to rest my Stray Kids, NCT, and Aespa posters. I like the minimalist cozy atmosphere this room radiates now with this simple makeover. It was a room I kinda hated before with its janky woodwork and boring walls. Now it looks complete!

We’ve been blessed with a little lake effect snow and it has been a marshmallow world. The views here become serene and open without the leaves. Some may see this as bleak but I love the transformation of snow and the peaceful slumber of the nature for the winter months. I hope we get more moments like this.

Lastly, we made some upgrades to our first floor before Thanksgiving. Our daybed’s framework broke. Instead of buying new furniture, Kyle set to work on designing a whole new base frame for the couch, complete with storage drawers! We also updated our front door with stained glass window film. Cheap? Yes, but, it allowed us to remove the broken blind that was an eyesore while maintaing privacy until we decide on a permanent solution for this door.

At 20 USD it was an affordable way to create character to a pretty ugly door. We’re making slow progress on updating the house, but as time goes by I realize, it’s part of the fun and changing everything all at once, if we had the money (which we don’t) would be pretty boring! Anyways, I hope wherever you are you have a lovely day and thanks for stopping by my little blog. Now, time to get back to Christmas knitting. I can’t wait to show you what I’m making! 😁

December 16, 2024

#63 – Apple Picking

We did something incredibly comforting this past weekend that gave us both a small delight. We went apple picking at our favorite orchard – Heagy’s Orchard in Northwestern Pennsylvania. It was the first time going back in four years and everything felt shinier, and happier, like the slump of the 2020s had shed and the area we used to haunt had come back to life, and so did I.

The interesting thing is I think now we instinctively felt like it was apple season at Heagy’s Orchard because these photos were taken on the same weekend, years apart, picking the same varieties of apples. None of it was planned. The pictures of my husband in the yellow plaid are from our first fall in Meadville in 2019, taken on Sept 5. The ones of me in a flannel and him in a hoodie are from Sept 7, 2020. And the first grouping, above, is from this past weekend, Sept 7, 2024.

How weird is that? I didn’t know we had a family tradition, him and I, but apparently we do and it was special to go back after such a long hiatus. Leaving Meadville-Erie area, a place that became home to us both after feeling like nowhere was home no matter how far we moved or how hard we tried in familiar places, was such a relief. Having to leave our home under the unfortunate circumstances of a dangerous living situation sucked.

It was frustrating that it was because drug dealers moved into the bottom unit of the house we were renting, with a considerable amount of domestic violence going on with them too, and the police doing little to nothing about it, which was despicable! There was so much pain and suffering in that situation. It only got worse when it became a squatting situation, the air was tense, and there was a gun. Not something you want to mess with. But not being able to fix the situation was a heartbreak that I shoved down in a box, to be left until I was ready.

Our new neighborhood in our new town where we lived from 2021 to the beginning of 2024, was like a high-strung Bailey Downs from Orphan Black, it never felt like home and so I had to keep that box shut and therefore couldn’t go to Erie or Meadville without feeling this rogue frustration, that until I returned there this past weekend, I couldn’t figure out why I was so frustrated and scared of the big emotion, But now I understand, it was a lack of acceptance compounded with the confusion of the dumpster fire that was 2020.

It was a lot of change in quick succession and my neurodivergent brain didn’t know what to do with in the moment, so I shut down. I was afraid I made a mistake leaving although I felt isolated and lonely after 2020, moving closer to family felt like oxygen. I’m glad in buying a house we are still able to go back up to the Meadville and Erie areas, because I realized I’m not done with that area, I just needed to be done with that living situation, and in turn, I really needed to get out of that suburban hell I fled to afterward to go back and see the place that made me feel home again.

The nature is just too pretty to be away from it for too long. There are these incredible ridges that stretch out in every direction. Fields, forests, creeks, ponds, marshes, and the closer you get to the lake it gets flatter until the big blue horizon meets you. It’s incredible. Is there a place or a tradition that helped you feel at home again after going through a tough time?

September 10, 2024

#62 – Lightning, Meeting the Neighborhood & Wallabies

This weekend started off a little bit wild. At first, it was a normal Saturday, a day we decided to run errands and do normal things we had been unable to get done during the week. Nothing crazy, just the normal chaos of navigating the stores in our town that was feeling extra Stars Hollow-y that day.

Then four o’clock hit and things got wild. It started with some gray clouds rolling in from the northwest. Nothing too crazy, a bit dark, but they seemed like rain clouds, not a grand thunderhead. We had plans to go to Keystone Safari towards the end of the day, which is all outside, a little rain wouldn’t ruin it.

Strike One

But then the dark clouds began to produce lightning and thunder rumbles, so we checked the radar, nothing big just a passing shower. So I continued to get ready to leave and that’s when the rain began to come down in a deluge, the wind kicked up and the lighting put on a grand finale. We were engulfed in a full-on banger of a storm with the culmination crescendoing in a palpable strike and immediate thunder so loud it felt like it happened on our street.

In fact, it did. The lighting struck the transformer up the road and we were now in the middle of a storm with our power gone. My first thought was the fridge and the freezer, and the dinner I was really hungry for. Downright hangry. We had built a fire pit earlier in the day with bricks and I had passed on getting a snack at Sheetz because I was excited about the dinner I would cook. I opted for Mt. Dew and that caffeine was hitting hard.

My mind was moving a mile a minute because I was genuinely surprised. There had been no forecast of storms, barely any rain on the radar. There had been no warning from our local college’s severe storm alert system or even a lightning or severe storm alert from the weather apps. Actually, before the big bolt of lightning hit the transformer, I was ready to get in the car. I’m really glad I decided to wait for the rain to slow down or we would’ve been outside for that and that would’ve been sketchy. This just furthers my frustration with those tornado and storm sirens, this may have been a good time to use them!

Community Matters

What turned into an unexpected evening of silence, the neighborhood I learned is downright silent without air conditioners running, it was actually a time of fellowship. It reminded me of what would happen after a big storm in the neighborhood I lived in as a kid, the neighbors would head outside and check on each other. So this storm which in my hanger felt like a big slap in the face, became a way to meet and bond with my neighbors.

They’re all so nice and warm. Especially compared to the neighborhood we lived in before we bought this house, which was cold. Our neighbors called the power company immediately to report the issue and started checking on people. I met people all around us and had a blast doing it. I even learned more about the property we bought and its history. It truly was turning lemons into lemonade.

Thankfully the power connection was able to be fixed twice. After an hour in a half, which was incredibly fast, the workers were able to repair our line for a few minutes until we heard a loud pop. It was out again, but it didn’t last and they were able to replace all the necessary parts. Most importantly, no one was hurt.

Wallaby, Pygmy Hippo, and a Cloud Leopard

The rest of the weekend, including the two days of vacation my husband took at the beginning of the week were blissfully uneventful and we got to catch up on some things we hadn’t done yet this year because of the move and other distractions. We finally got to Living Treasures to see the Cloud Leopard, the Pygmy Hippotamus, and the sweetest little wallabies and juvenile kangaroos. Walking around the park and getting to be around animals brings me so much joy. Same with Keystone Safari, it is such a calming place to reset and unplug.

The weather after that storm has been spectacular. There has been a coolness, a crispness that feels like autumn is closer than we think. Some of the leaves are already changing. The sky has been spooky and rainy, like a mist that only happens in October. Autumn and spooky season is the time of the year I crave so it has been a wonderful surprise to see highs in the low 60s Fahrenheit and lows in the upper 40s Fahrenheit in August! I can’t wait for all the fall things! 🙂

I’d say overall this little staycation was a great way to reset but most importantly, by losing power and having to lean on the kindness of strangers, I feel like I have settled into this place. It’s starting to feel like home. I also learned to trust my observation skills, and really be skeptical of the meteorologist. I know they have made huge advances lately in technology but dang, they dropped the ball this weekend for me. I think education on how storms work and how to be safe is better than these apps because they fail and there’s really nothing we can do about it. Aside from petting baby goats, that really seemed to lift my spirits this weekend. 10/10 recommend.

August 22, 2024

#58 – My Favorite Summer Weather

As I was thinking about this post this scene from Miss Congeniality popped into my head because I feel like what I am about to write sounds a bit like Rhode Island and that’s okay because it gives me a good laugh.

There is this amazing breeze today, fresh, clean, not humid air that I haven’t felt in over a month, and yet on these days I feel like I’m in a portal of memory. One of my favorite things about living in Pennsylvania and a climate with four seasons is that the weather changes. Quite often actually. We get cold fronts that scream across Ohio and things change in a few hours and I love it. Especially in the height of summer, when I’m burnt out on the bright sun, humidity, and heat waves. We get one of those cold fronts, like we did yesterday and the humidity clears, the sky changes and the leaves turn over and instead of storming it looks like fall.

It feels like fall in the middle of July! Instead of dangerous storms, we get gentle rain. The clouds in their kaleidoscope gray and purple changes the light to that spooky vibe of a cozy Halloween movie. It refreshes me.

It brings me back to some of my favorite summer memories. Such as the feeling of being 17 at my summer job at Geneva College on their Paint Crew, after a stretch of painting in muggy, non-air-conditioned dorms, when finally a storm breaks through and the cold front brings this melodic rain and I watch it from inside Memorial Hall. The lighting is so spooky, it’s hard to see what I’m cutting in but I feel alive in the cool breeze. I can’t wait to walk home in the rain!

The breeze coming through the windows of my home today reminded me of the sweetness of the summer air that I used to smell at my friend Cailee’s house as a kid. They always had the windows open in the summer. As I walked into my bedroom to grab a pair of socks, I could swear I was on the second-floor landing about the help Cailee clean her room again before she got grounded. Four Harry Potter books were strewn across the floor, the first movie had just come out. Like magic, I’m 8 years old again.

What’s your ideal calendar date? Is there a certain moment from summer or a change in the weather that transports back to childhood?

July 12, 2024 0

Sketching Process: Wild Blue Phlox

May 28, 2024

#53 – Lemon Curd

In Portal 2, Cave Johnson has an iconic rant about lemons that may have been the inspiration for my Saturday plan – to make dairy-free lemon curd from scratch.

To clarify, no lemons were exploded. But they were zested, juiced, and combined into a luscious lemon sauce and baked into lemon bars. Tart, sweet, buttery, lemon bars.

“All right, I’ve been thinking, when life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager!
Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I’m the man whose gonna burn your house down – with the lemons! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!”
-Cave Johnson, Aperture Laboratories

But why did Cave Johnson speak so deeply to my mood on Saturday morning, one of the best times of the week? Well my dysfunctional family, of course. Communication is truly an art form, and for some relationships, healthy communication seems as easy as replicating a Michelangelo masterpiece with a butter knife. I am a member of that club. I feel like sometimes a conversation with my mom is doomed from the start. I call her and there is something in the air. A mistaken tone she finds in me, a lack of matching her extroverted, neurotypical energy.

The inability to recognize drama or harshness in her tone. My anxiety and frustration at being accosted by questions, picking remarks, or in general still not living up to whatever I was supposed to. It’s a mess, a mess that continues to respawn after numerous attempts to get rid of this and live a drama-free life with the mom that I do deeply love even if sometimes I get exasperated at her. This was one of those conversations, I did something and the verbal missiles were locking on me, which was really disappointing because it was supposed to be a simple conversation – what time are you coming up to celebrate my husband’s birthday?

Instead, there was chaos, my confusion at why there was chaos with questions followed by accusations of trying to fight and being told I was being a problem, gaslit into the aggressor when I held my temper in check and just asked questions. There seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. I was being baited into a fight and it sucked. It was a conversational sucker punch. Some weeks I don’t even want to pick up the phone, I yearn to move far away from the possibility of hanging out with her, because I just want to be loved not picked at. Being lonely but happy feels better than being close and miserable. I feel like she brings all the drama-ma-ma-ma-ma and then runs away from me after her work is done.

In the screaming silence that followed the nasty encounter, I felt confusion, anger, hurt, sadness, failure, shame, disappointment, a building pressure of anxiety and depression, and the complex childhood trauma memories flooding back of her gaslighting me into thinking I was a kid with an un-teachable spirit, a stubborn child who spirit needed to be broken because seeing things differently from her was a sin.

I feel sorry for my mom because none of those things are true, and keeping me at arm’s length hurts both of us. We only have so much time on this earth, wouldn’t it be better to be laughing instead of arguing, smiling instead of crying?

I’ve learned there is nothing wrong with me. I’m neuro-divergent and God made me this way for a reason. There is beauty in being different, but she can’t see that. She sees me as difficult, and I in turn see her as small-minded.

Recently, I’ve turned to baking when I feel down in the dumps. For a while, baking was quite painful for me, after Grandma passed away in 2020. She was the one who taught me how to bake and that void made baking a chore. Since watching the Great British Bake Off, I’ve found my baking delight once again. We had a bunch of lemons on hand for a separate recipe, and since the rest needed to be used, I decided to make something I’d never made from scratch before. Lemon curd.

They make it on Bake-Off and I used to love eating lemon bars and lemon meringue pie as a kid, it was Papa’s favorite pie. We had it each year on his birthday. It was the bomb. The tart, lemony sharpness of the filling with the pillowy sweet clouds of meringue on top, slightly browned like a marshmallow with a flakey crust. Scrumptious.

Fun fact: My grandma dressed, acted, and looked a lot like Mary Berry. Watching Bake Off is like a hug.

And you know what, baking helped. I felt the tension melt from my shoulders as I zested the lemons and squeezed the juice into the bowl. The delicacy of separating yolks from egg whites required me to slow down, to breathe through the emotional stress. I made a cup of herbal tea and began work on the sugar and butter. After combining it came time to use the bain-marie to slowly temper the eggs and cook until thickened. The result was a dreamy curd that I was hoping for!

Out of pain, something beautiful came, and the next day I made shortbread for the lemon bars and layered the golden yellow lemon sauce into the pan for a delight I hadn’t had since childhood. Next time we’ll make that lemon meringue pie.

I’m glad I’ve learned coping mechanisms like baking, cleaning, stimming, etc so that I am not tempted to rage at my mom, clench my jaw, get drunk, or go on a shopping spree to fill the pain with stuff. It’s been a journey but through my tumultuous twenties, I learned that the dysfunction is never going away but who I am and how I respond to it are not beholden to other people and their poor behavior. And that is true freedom.

Have you ever made lemon curd? Do you like lemon meringue pie or lemon bars? What’s your go-to way to calm down after a stressful encounter? Thank you, dear reader, for coming along on this blogging journey with me. I’m incredibly thankful for you.

April 23, 2024

#51 – Forsythia, Thumb Print Cookies and Rain

Driving home on a cloudy, rainy Sunday a wash of bright, sunshine-yellow that burst upon the landscape once I got within my hometown’s county. A golden, almost firey shrubbery that dotted the yards of homes near and far. But what is this? This long-forgotten friend that signals spring, the forsythia.

At first, I thought this was a local plant, potentially a Pennsylvanian cherry blossom? But actually, I learned that forsythia originates from Eastern Asia and Eastern Europe. I wonder what brought them here? Maybe the simple beauty or immigrant communities from Eastern Europe who came to Beaver County brought a sense of home? That would be cool.

Since I moved from home, I think my springs have been colored with different shades of spring. The crocus, the daffodil, and when May creeps in, the rhododendron (a tongue twister). I look at photos and videos with wanderlust of the Sakura and forget my local splendor, the forsythia.

I didn’t realize how much I missed those beautiful golden blossoms until I saw them again. It was a welcome call, a return to normalcy to a world of childhood that felt like a warm hug. As I mentioned before in Easter Traditions and Celebrating the Resurrection there isn’t a lot of familiarity in my holidays anymore, but this, it felt like a moment stuck in time.

This wasn’t the only familiar sight of the weekend. I went home and got to give my parents hugs, and my family dog snuggles, and ate a new little tradition – thumbprint cookies from My Sweet Lily. My mom and Scott (who I’m referring to when I say my parents) travel down to Pittsburgh’s Strip District each Easter season to get a ham at Wholey’s Market and make another stop. To a bakery that sells dairy-free confections of creme-filled pastries called lady locks and these cookies called thumbprints, rolled in sprinkles with a dollop of icing on top.

This variety with the frosting, is incredibly sweet, vibrantly colored, and sort of stomach ache-inducing but I love them and choose to indulge in their sweetness once a year. I’ve had these cookies with jam and with a chocolate ganache, which is splendidly rich. I was curious where these cookies originated from and they are an Americanized version of the Swedish hallongrotta cookie. The name hallongrottor translates to raspberry cave, as these cookies are traditionally served with raspberry jam filling the depression in the top of the cookie.

Today we have a familiar friend visiting our basement, rainwater. Oh rainwater, flowing into the basement and making the journey to the washing machine an adventure of tiny stream crossings. I’m trying to be patient and accept that this Spring is going to be a rainy one, just like the rainy winter we had and it will pass. The basement will dry out.

Meanwhile, the rain is kind of calming, gentle, and cozy on this April day. I can’t believe it’s April already and I’m so excited. I’ve been designing up a storm for summer and I can’t wait to share it with you. ❤

April 2, 2024

Winter Light

A jolt of life. A bright, warm, hope!

Vast blue sky, a wash of cerulean lifts above my head.

All worries, fade. Care melts from my shoulders.

A hope for tomorrow! Truth breaks through the lies.

Darkness lasts for a moment but life springs forth

to sunshine’s embrace. A welcome friend.

You comfort my soul and invigorate my mind!

Welcome home, welcome back, bright, blue sky.

February 23, 2024

#46 – Sewing Studio

One afternoon day, I hit a wall and found a solution in my workout room. You see I’d been sewing in the living room, not because I wasn’t provided the opportunity to have a sewing room, I think I was just being stubborn. Throughout 2023 though, I began to outgrow the living room setup, galavanting from the coffee and dining room tables. My projects were scattered across the first floor of our home. It was chaos. Fabric scraps, yarn fluffs, knitting needles, pins, computer, charger, sewing machine, sewing pedal, notebooks, paintbrushes, etc.

I hit a wall when I felt frustrated for the 1000th time that my sewing machine was bouncing against the circular antique table instead of being balanced on a proper sewing table. I then switched to cutting out a pattern on the coffee table, littered with life and projects, in this ineffective space I cut the wrong piece. In frustration, I realized this was a product of my own decision-making. It was time to level up and clean the workout room for a proper studio.

I think I had been thinking about this longer than I realized, because, after Christmas, I hung up my new bunny calendar and K-pop posters in the workout room, like a future studio. Even though I wasn’t planning the conversion to a studio, it all worked out seamlessly. I moved some things around, decluttered others, and brought the white folding table up from the coat closet. I brought my machine and sewing notions up, including my sewing treasure chest Kyle made me last year. With art supplies, notebooks, and my computer in toe, there was a magic that happened. It was perfect!

The only money I spent on the conversion were new curtains to keep the space warmer, than the repurposed sheets I had sewn into curtains. It’s the breathing room I need to create and the space from this work I need. Knowing I can step away from a project for the night, without having to clean up the items for dinner, is life-changing. I’m sleeping better.

I think since getting married and working from home, I missed that private space, like having my own room again. I can shut the door and escape into my own little world. That was one of my favorite things about life as a single person. It’s good to keep those things, after life changes. I love my life, but I like who I am more with this studio. I am a lot more patient.

My favorite part of this workspace is the natural lighting. It’s so bright and airy, that it lifts my spirits every time I walk into the space.

February 13, 2024