Everyone in the scrapbook world is talking about CHA, the holy grail of crafting where all the latest and greatest designs are rolled out on the runway.
Or HOF (Hall of Fame) THE competition of all competitions where any scrap booker worth his or her salt designs a dozen of their best pages ever in hopes of winning $500, a boatload of scrap goodies and the envy of their peers.
I won’t be doing either one of these events, and I’m not sad, I made my choices and I’m living with them.
But the CHA talk, and the HOF talk, and my super-secret involvement in another project to be unveiled at CHA has me feeling a little saturated by the whole “serious business” of scrap booking.
Yes, I am as serious as the next person about getting published. It’s a worthy goal, and one I intend to pursue to the best of my ability. I know all about professionalism, putting the right foot forward, etc, etc, blah, blah yawn.
The funny thing is, CHA is taking place in Las Vegas. Last time I looked Vegas was not the serious business capital of the world. You can tell me you are planning to meet and greet, pass out business cards and make a good impression. But I’m not fooled, there’s a part of you, deep in your soul that’s screaming “party on!”
I recognize it, because I have a little “party on!” voice screaming in my head, too.
The problem is, I don’t do as good a job of suppressing it as most people.
It’s the “party on!” part of my personality that causes me to wear fuchsia ballet slipper style sneakers to “serious” service agency meetings.
My “party on!” alter ego thinks popcorn and soda pop is a perfectly acceptable breakfast food. After all, in colonial times they served popcorn in bowls and covered them in milk, it was one of the first breakfast cereals (right after oatmeal, which is not a “party on!” food.)
Then there’s the bills.
Why should I spend money on electricity and telephone services when I would much rather buy paper?
That puts me back in the scrap room, where I have to get serious with my genuinely good time of playing in paper to try to make my party central into a paying gig so I can cover the cost of paper, ribbon adhesive and the like.
That’s right. It all comes down to a harsh reality. If you want to play, you have to pay.