I have a guilty pleasure.

Well. Actually. I have more than one.

But today, I want to talk about one.

Not that one.

I have a particularly dry sense of humour.

While I often find things…people…life…amusing, it’s rare that I actually laugh out loud.

So when something makes me laugh, I take note.

My guilty pleasure is this hilarious internet comic called The Awkward Yeti. (http://theawkwardyeti.com/) . I love it. I think it’s hilarious and intelligent. It makes my day – the way most people read The Oatmeal I read the Awkward Yeti.gall-bladder

Last year, the artist published a comic called “Gallbladder’s Last Day.”

I laugh and I laugh and I laugh.

I still laugh, every time I read it.

Okay, Karmen, that’s nice. Who cares about some comic that you find funny that no one else does? You’re just weird.

Bear with me.

Last Monday, I was at the print shop.

I’d gotten these four posters printed for work.

And, there, in the shop, I unwrapped them to ensure that they’d printed correctly.

And there they were.

My posters.

That I made.

I maked these.

And, there in the store, I swelled with pride a little. in my own moment, i felt proud, because… well, I maked these! I DID!

It doesn’t make any sense, really.

I’ve been doing marketing and graphic design for the better part of ten years.

Prior to that, I was a theatre director and stage manager. I ran my own company. There are a lot of things in this world that I have “maked” – some of them good, and some of them, not so good.

In fact, it’s a rare day in my life that I don’t make something.
I have maked a lot of things.

But I still get excited – every time.

Think about the last time that you maked something. Something that excited you. Something that you were proud of. Something that was yours.

There is something about looking something that you created – whether it’s a poster or a delicious meal – and knowing that without you, it would not have existed.

It’s this happy, swelling, lovely feeling that starts from the gut and spreads in tingles to your fingers and toes.

I don’t have children, but I imagine that parents feel this a hundred fold every time they look at their offspring.

I maked this.

It’s why babies get so excited the first time that they move something. Or knock down blocks. Or paint a picture. Or burp.

It’s why we take pictures of our adventure and our food.

It’s also why are terrified to share these things, as adults, unless we are convinced that they are perfect.

For if they aren’t – someone like liver in the comic – might destroy our feeling of pride and beauty. Livers that don’t understand the beauty in the stones that we maked.

It’s why art critics and internet comment trolls are simultaneously revelled and despised. Because there are people out there who will never appreciate the wonder and awe that comes with the making of things.

Who cares.


Make things anyway.

Don’t let the livers of the world stop you.

Keep making things.

Beautiful things.

Make things that others find less than beautiful.

Special things.

Things that are uniquely you.

Things that would not be here except that you exist. And you maked them.

Stop apologizing for them. Share them with pride and joy.

Because you maked them

And no one can take them away from you.

I dare you.

Go make things today.