In the past few months, it seems the only one who hasn't been completely shocked by my ability/tendency to sew/craft/make stuff is my mom. Maybe she had the genetic heads up and should've been shocked too, but I really don't understand what all the fuss is about. This isn't really "new" per se, it's just a different symptom for an underlying diagnosis: I am an engineer to the core.
Let me explain.
When I make something, only about 10% of it is me saying "ooh, that's pretty!" The other 90% is doing the math (guess what, I have a scientific calculator in my sewing room. It's not buried under other stuff either), putting puzzle pieces together, and figuring out how to "do it better". Quilting, making, etc...it's just a puzzle to me. It's taking something I see already made, then making it myself. The first time is always a little rough, but then usually I have a good idea of how to make it (or at least the process) a little smoother, better, etc next time.
The mental...space?...that I go to when I'm creating is the same space I used to go to when I worked with (not for) Matlab. I'd spend hours staring at the same stuff on the same whiteboard, erasing and marking, tweaking until it was perfect, then coding coding coding. It's the same now...I stare with what probably looks like a vacant look at fabrics, but really my wheels are turning and it's a process similar to what Stephen King described in Bag of Bones (something about movers in the attic...I can't remember exactly). Generally, both processes involve(d) having multiple sources of white noise (MOTU, I'm sure, gets sick of me leaving radios and TVs on all over the house, but that's how I roll) to keep me focused. It's a strange system, but even now, the thought of that atmosphere is soothing.
Anyway, that's my story. It shouldn't shock anyone out there that quilting, for me, is textile mathematics.
A couple quick pictures: