quilting

We went to the fair over the weekend. I was working there sort of, just checking up on my company's van as I was responsible for it even though other people were actually "working" it. I haven't been to the fair since high school. In Missoula there are 2 things that everyone in the entire city and surrounding area seem to come to each year--the fair and the homecoming parade for the U of M. I loved both. The fair was the chance to see friends I hadn't seen all summer, and to maybe run into a boyfriend and make out for a few minutes as we weren't allowed by our parents to be seeing any of these people.

There's nothing romantic about the fair. It's cheap, dirty, hoky and a rip off. So why is it full of lovers?
And why does it make me feel more loving?

This year I'd say it was because I looked at the quilts. Because part of me wants a simple life. A pure life. An unadulterated life. Because in that life I know who I'm supposed to be. But in this one I don’t. I want to be so much.

I made a quilt once. I loved doing it. I listened to books on tape while I stitched it together. I want to make more quilts. I feel like I have a purpose when working on something like that. But why am I not the type for this? It feels like you have to committ to a certain way of life to be able to make quilts for a hobby. I alreaday have enough hobbies that I never have time to do anything with, why start another? Maybe what I need is something grounding. I think that's what Tyler does for me, he's grounding. I love that he loves regular things and regular life. Sometimes I wish he wanted more and maybe he does in different ways than me. I don't think I want an extraordinary life, but just to feel like life is extraordinary for me.

Quilts are the ultimate juxtaposition. They can be ancient or modern. But they are always sort of calm—not because of the colors or patterns used, it's just the object itself. Could I make a quilt that wasn’t calm? That would be interesting.