This is a world where I looked a man in the eyes and the words, “Where are your sequins?” tumbled from my lips.
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By Frank Kobola
I am really bad at doing crafts. I’m bad in a way that would get a second-grader held back solely on the quality of craftwork. So I thought I’d try my hand at some homemade Valentine’s Day cards. If I can do it, then so can you.
My first task was gathering all my supplies, and as is usually the case, the journey was more exciting than the destination. I went to a local, three-story craft store. This is the second time I’ve been here (both times for my job) so I guess this is officially my favorite craft haunt, pretty much by default (shout-out to the Michael’s I went into once and got kicked out of because my asshole high school friends and I threw foam balls at each other though).
Craft stores are overwhelming. Initially, I thought if I wanted to go to a craft store for, say, a paintbrush, paints, some card stock, and ribbon, I would find the paintbrush, and the watercolor paints, and a handful of card stock and ribbons. I assumed that things like paintbrushes didn’t necessitate such a variety that they would need their own goddamn section separate from the rest of the art supplies. I didn’t know a tube of paint the size of my thumb could cost 25 fucking dollars. This is not the world I live in. This is a world where I looked a man in the eyes and, guided by my list of necessary supplies, the words, “Where are your sequins?” tumbled from my lips. Words that have never come out of my mouth in that combination, in that order, ever before. I could probably count the number of times I’ve said “sequins” alone on one, maybe two hands. I can reasonably assert that typing “sequins” out in this paragraph alone has doubled the number of times I’ve leveraged that word.
Still, I somehow managed to grab supplies in under an hour (trust me, that’s impressive) and got to work on my cards. They involved yarn and glitter. I hate yarn and glitter. I expected the worst.
1. “Sending You Love.”
This is a card I have no business making. Picture me hunched over a table in my house, all on my own, lit by dim bulbs, sweating profusely and pasting hearts onto a piece of card stock. It just doesn’t make sense. And yet, some of the most beautiful things on earth don’t make sense: deep-fried Oreos, Yankee Candle smells, the arguably limited and yet endearing appeal of Zooey Deschanel. Somehow … I made something and it looked pretty OK. I don’t know who I am anymore.
People picked up the card and used their mouths to say, “You made this?” but they used their eyes to say, “How did a horrid monster such as yourself bring such beauty into the world?” I dunno.
2. Yarn Heart Cards
I hate sewing and I’m convinced it’s tantamount to real-life magic, done by conjurers and not grandmas with too much time on their hands. I can’t sew. You know what I can do though? Make a bunch of holes in paper and then push yarn through it. I can do that hard. I was really worried about this being a colossal train wreck. But somehow, in five minutes, I had something I could hand to another human being and make it look like I give a shit about them.
I seriously don’t understand what is happening right now, but so far it’s Frank: 2, cards: 0. I could sell these things on Etsy.
3. DIY Valentine’s Day Card
This is what I’m used to happening when I touch crafts. There are literally three components to this entire card, and yet mine looks so sad and pathetic. I’m convinced I could spend hours trying to set this card up and every single time the heart would still limply fall over.
As is the case in pretty much every aspect of my life, I have no idea what I did wrong. I just know that I’m terrible. That heart is pretty heart-shaped-looking though. I’m surprised it came out looking as good as it did.
4. Watercolor Valentine’s Day Card
Painting and some kind of weird embossing technique I’m unfamiliar with and literally refuse to learn? Fuck that. I’m going to use a hot glue gun and some old glitter I found in the back of a closet. This video how-to lost me once she started using.
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This article originally appeared on Cosmopolitan.
Photo credit: Kathleen Kamphausen