In which I veer from "la-la pretty things" to "self flagellation"

I've been sewing lately, taking these great classes at Muse Workshops. (Alas, her group classes are no more, but Shannon Hird is making patterns!) Homemade bags/purses are the theme of this year's Christmas presents, so I've been shopping for fabrics a lot lately. I'm not a "collector"--no stamps, no bottle caps, no expensive crystal objects. Actually, that's not entirely true. When I was a kid, I collected stickers, and by collected, I mean hoarding anything that had a cute picture on the front and sticky stuff on the back (bonus points for anything you could scratch'n'sniff)--I was not the most discriminating sticker connoisseur. But as I organized my fabrics last night, I realized that I had the beginnings of a minor obsession. I love pretty fabric! I also love shopping for fabric (I could easily spend a day in a single store)--wandering through the shop, eyeing all the colors, running my hands over velvets and slubby silks, pairing swatches in my mind, imagining all the things I could make from these materials. Because at its core, fabric is potential. It's not good for much just sitting there in bolts. You have unwind it, cut it, press it, and stitch it together for it to be truly useful. The same goes for yarn. I adore browsing yarn stores to look at colors and feel the textures (and then wishing, once I find the skeins of cashmere, that I could fill a bathtub with the soft yarns and dive right in). Each bundle, while pretty to look at, is just a little blob of potential, waiting for someone to come along with a picture in her head and a set of needles and able hands. (My yarn box is a testament to how much vision and time I seem to think I have. In actuality, I have little of either, so my yarn sits, sadly.)

Come to think of it, this is why I enjoy grocery shopping, especially at places like the Farmer's Market. When I see great piles of exotic vegetables, my mind races to figure out what I can do with them, how to mix them up for the greatest impact of flavors, colors, and textures. I race around, buying way too much, fretting that if I don't get this now, I'll never see it again, and that, is wasted potential.

The idea of wasted potential has been rolling around in my head lately. I sort of blew off the concept of grades in college and didn't give too much thought to my future career--I considered myself an academic rebel, but really, I was lazy. (And in retrospect? How much self-delusional spin doctoring is that? I'm lazy because I'm barely passing classes? Oh no, my friend. I am an academic rebel!) I fell into a career, in part by default, but also because I knew that my job prospects out of college were limited because of my major and grades. I mean, I love my general field, but I'm at a job I don't love (but that others might kill for), just biding my time. When it's time to move on, do I continue in a similar vein? I feel like I'm getting too old to break left and make a major change (much as this entry has gone). Sometimes, I wish I could go back and slap some sense into my 19-year-old self and tell her to give that decision more consideration and time. But I can't, so here I am, two months from a potential crossroad, not knowing what I should do. What do you think I should do?