So, this is a bit of a response to my sister’s post HERE on her jealousy inspiring adventure into glass blowing.
She was the one to mention glory holes, by the way, this wasn’t me being a brat and trying to prompt my older sister into asking if I know what a glory-hole is.
I do, by the way Lexy.
I hope that the fact that I’m 19 helps to negate the sibling-nose-scrunch of “my sister knows about something sexual in nature?”
Yes, I’ve moved past the playground “Are you a virgin?”-“What’s that?”-“Just answer the question” trolling, and even know where babies come from.
But moving on from THAT, I suggest that you read her post (link above) first (though it isn’t entirely necessary) just so you know how things actually went rather than this bout of my imagining my own reaction to being allowed to play with molten glass and colours.
I think that there would be three parts to my reaction, and because the idea amuses me, I’m going to use my three mental characters that I always end up thinking of regardless of the situation.
Sanity, Insanity, and Myself, who I have been thinking of as Mediator. Click HERE for my post explaining where Sanity and Insanity came to mind. To the left there should be a thing to find all my posts including these characters…
Anyway, Lexy mentions that while actually working with the glass, there was a dull roar of “MAKING GLASS”, and when cooling and twisting and doing other things to the hot glass, thinking “don’t touch the glass!” with lots of undercurrent thoughts like don’t set anything on fire and whatnot…
I feel like I would be having a very similar reaction, but with a bit more paranoia towards the possibility of potentially harming myself or others.
The idea of molten-glass burns freaks me out.
It freaks me out more than the idea of molten-lava burns, because people don’t try to make lava into art.
The possibility of hurting someone else while I’m working, while I’m trying to make some piece of art, while I’m doing ANYTHING that could possibly result in someone else’s harm freaks me out.
Last summer when I was working with heavy machinery daily around my fellow maintenance workers, I was freaking out a lot.
So the idea of fiddling around with molten glass with other people around me also doing this… freaks me the hell out.
I would still do it though.
But it doesn’t keep me from thinking that the insane and fairly bitchy part of my consciousness would be going off like a little kid who wandered off in Ikea.
Fascinated, freaking out, touching things and possibly breaking things, being a nuisance to other people, being a tiny-human-shaped terror.
The sane part would be that employee you go to to find that same kid.
They know what to do, they try to keep you calm and happy so you can enjoy your foray into the large plot of land that is Ikea, and when they find the child, they will do damage control and do their best to get that demon-child back to someone who can control it. The Mediator.
I have a friend who worked at Ikea for a summer, by the way.
So in my mind, the situation would likely have me looking fairly normal, perhaps with a slightly hysteric (Happiness? Freaking out? Smiling regardless of reason.) smile, with Insanity screaming in my ear all the things that could go wrong, all the craptastic things that could result in me and others going on a fun trip to the hospital. Screaming about how I SHOULDN’T TURN TOO QUICKLY! SOMEONE MIGHT BE THERE! FUCK! Oh, and also, BE SURE TO WARN EVERYONE THAT YOUR CLUMSY ASS IS HEADING OVER THERE SO YOU DON’T CRIPPLE THEM! SHIT!
Never mind Sanity speaking calmly to me at my other side what EXACTLY I have to do, as I need to do it, and that everyone knows to watch out, calm down, nothing to worry about, just be careful, breathe…
It really doesn’t help with the fact that it seems like it’s almost a familial trait to want to play with fire. I can barely be trusted with a candle… And oh look, shiny-glowing-hot-glass-FUNNNNNNN!
Yeah, I imagine that going to a glass blowing workshop would be the most mentally tiring thing I’d have done for the entire year.
And I’m saying this AFTER having just finished my exams…
And I still want to go to one of these things!
By the way, for the >*< at the end of her post, mentioning her setting things on fire and her mentioning of heating up a muffin for 10 minutes…
*sigh* I will explain.
I have been the source of a lot of fiery food/other being thrown to the back yard. A lot of the time it was from me trying to heat up my own food, so this isn’t me being a pyromaniac child, no.
This is usually from me not understanding the answer to a question.
The incident Lexy is talking about:
That I had asked Dad how long it took to cook muffins after he’d finished a batch.
He said to put them in the oven for about ten minutes, and then check on them.
So, a while later after a few minutes a burning smell was happening, there was the alarm going off, and a flaming muffin was being chucked out the back door into the snow.
Yay for winter.
That I had asked Dad how long it took to cook muffins after he’d finished a batch.>> (Me: I want to eat a warm muffin later) <<
He said to put them in the oven for about ten minutes, and then check on them. >> (Dad: Aw, she wants to know how long to cook muffins) <<
It’s more of a mistake on my side, I think, but considering I was at that waist-height age, and not very good at getting across exactly what I wanted to know…
And it wasn’t the only thing I’d set on fire before, either, but I think that the full list would need a blog post of its own.