I cannot find papers to my sewing machine and have somehow not reloaded the bobbin right. I was very infuriated yesterday and now dont know why I though a singer with all its bullshit placements was a good idea to begin with. I should have bought the project runway machine from the start. I make clothes, I like doing it and that damn machine is a pain in the ass. So if anyone likes Singer sewing machines, I have one for sale. Threading it, and the bobbin are a pain with that brand. Its like apple versus android or whatever.
I definitely threw an artist fit, wanted to throw the machine through the window of the place I had bought it from and tore up the studio. It’s now organized and looking much better, by the way. No, i did not find the manual to the fucking machine. I dont want the machine anymore and I hate it. It’s like i cursed the object from bad memories or something.
On top of that all the bad memories of my mom’s pushy and horrible teachings shoved down my throat are coming back to light. So i have dealt with them, but the machine still represents everything i hate about sewing. When I got a B award, which you have to really suck to get in 4H, at the fair, she was the one who took the project from me and sewed it because i was too slow. Noone ever bothered to ask me if i wanted to sew. No, i did not at that time. Boys were more important and I just really still kind of like barbies and my doll house. In the long run, it made me a better writer because thats where i excel. I won a state fair, which is awesome, award for creative writing. I was the one who wrote it. No assistance needed. Perhaps i should just keep designing clothes as a side hobby while working on my writing?
Is the universe trying to tell me something, other than i need a new sewing machine? Better yet, am I refusing to listen to what the universe is trying to tell me?