“Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. It is a loop—an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. Instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. We correct our originality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity.”—
Apartment Therapy is really pissing me off lately.
You give people ‘tips’ that aren’t tips! You use the royal ‘we’, which is just wrong. All of the people that comment are either really rude, really over-the-top nice, or really slow. Why do you insist on writing new posts all the time, instead of just having a much-easier-to-navigate archive? How many fucking Christmas decor posts have you created this season alone? The ‘good questions’ that people ask your ‘website’ are NEVER good questions! You don’t know what art to buy? Too bad! You can’t BUY taste. You don’t know how to hang curtains? Go to the hardware store and ask! WhatEVER.
Cool gift search engine; put in what it is you’re looking for (i.e. ‘something romantic’) and who the thing is for (i.e. ‘someone geeky’), and ta-dah! Pictures of pretty things you can buy that would be apt for someone geeky that you love!
I really want to learn some serious crafting skills
quilting, knitting, and crocheting - all things that I have tried a little but not mastered yet and I would love to get into it. For instance, have you seen these amazing rugs by Patricia Urquiola for Spanish label GAN (inspired by sweater sleeves)?
Or this quilt by Leah Evans (inspired by maps and arial photography)?
I am ashamed by how much I missed tumblr this weekend.
Also, I spent too many hours making an effing Christmas wreath from paper loops AND I called firemen to my house last night. Apparently the disgusting visible smoke and stench I experienced are just a ‘normal’ occurrence when dust falls off and burns up in your furnace. Four burly men in fancy fire suits came and told me that. Nice guys. I bet they’re glad they didn’t have anything else to do at midnight-thirty on a Sunday night.