“It seems like my entire career is just this jumble quilt of different work.”– Rachel Bailey, 26, to Industry Money
My occupation is a collage made from wrecked items of building and construction paper and paste.
My job is a pointillist paint where up close it’s simply some dots and then you relocate further back and it’s still dots, however smaller.
My profession is just one of the those fake stained glass packages that resembles it’s actually easy and fun but your hand isn’t that steady and the nozzle is also huge and you end up with balls of poisonous goo caked on a plastic disk and it just type of looks like a butterfly, if you squint, yet your mama keeps it in her room home window anyway and states she likes it yet you understand she’s let down and honestly so are you.
My profession is a lopsided dish you made in a pottery course at the recreation center because you assumed it would certainly be a sexy pastime to experiment with like in the motion pictures and it was sort of enjoyable however no person touched your neck and likewise now you have this awful dish and clay discolorations on your preferred footwear.
My occupation is a rock stemless glass that looked so awesome on the shelf at Michael’s and was so vibrant and interesting looking and pricey and you pled for it and afterwards you got it and it was simply a shaking bowl and some rocks, essentially, what is the craft of this, why did you assume this would certainly be cool, additionally it’s so loud that you can just do it in the basement which is terrifying and horrible but you need to act you like it anyway since it was so pricey and also what are you expected to do with these rocks now.
My occupation is a friendship bracelet that you surrender on entwining midway via and are similar to, it’s a book mark with fringe, I meant for it to be like that during.
My job is a birthday card you attract when you’re currently late for the party and you make the birthday girl’s name in bubble letters and attract stick numbers of both of you and a cupcake and it would certainly be very charming if you were 7 but you are not 7 and neither is your friend.
My career is a mobile constructed from discovered nature things, like little sticks and some blossom buds stolen from the neighbors’ lawn and some quite leaves and you attempted to use creeping plants to hold it together but that didn’t actually work that well so you just used floss and tape and now you have this only sort of rickety fifty percent natural nature mobile, beautiful.
My occupation is beautiful corpse drawing that you finish with on your own when you’re lonely and even though it’s completely in your power to make a truly stunning ballerina monster tadpole model, you don’t, because what’s the point, there isn’t one.
My career is a blank canvas that you hang over your bed since you review in a magazine that it resembles, contemporary art, yet in fact it’s just a blank canvas and you understand it and check out it daily and think, I’m a farce.
My profession is a crayon scrubing with a fallen leave except the leaf isn’t truly veiny enough and additionally you’re not pressing down hard sufficient on the pastel and possibly the paper is too thick and brownish was the only crayon left in package.
My job is a turkey you make by tracing your hand and drawing eyes and the gobble point and wow this is stupidest craft ever what is the factor of this why has this gone down in background as a terrific craft and likewise it’s not even Thanksgiving, not even close.
My career is a magic eye that never ever actually enters focus.
My occupation is a magic eye that ends up being something actually foolish, like a rhombus, that’s it, you crossed your eyes and concentrated truly hard for that.
My job is a mosaic of ruined tea saucers and dreams.