Is this too broad?: Staining My Clothes

Go to college and start becoming a grown up. That was the idea. And yet, I find myself suddenly rediscovering my childhood pleasures: Disney movies, coloring books, juice pouches, and TIE-DYE.

Before starting college, I hadn't tie-dyed anything in around ten years. And I probably would've continued that way except that I got a job where I have to wear either white or tie-dye and I got an RA with an enthusiastic passion for the stuff.

See, nice clean trays!

We're so neat and prepared!

Last week, a couple of my friends and I spent Friday night making a mess in the laundry room. I mean, we used trays and had paper towels handy - we had every intent of being perfectly neat. But see, we're not pros at this and we laugh a lot so we jerk a lot. So, yeah, we spill a lot
too.

Colors fly!

Then it begins.

But despite the incredible amount of dye all over the floor and all over ourselves, we had a blast. It's exciting, not really knowing how your project is going to turn out.

I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a long time. Between classes, essays, work, and sleep, there's not a lot of time left for fun. But I also realize that I should make time. Right after sticking her hands wet-concrete style into the tray of spilled dye, one of my friends says, "My parents would be so proud of me for doing something fun!" If that's not a sign that we need to live a little, then you need to get your eyes checked because that's a sign.

Okay, so everything from my nails to my elbows will be spotted with dye for the next few days, but there is actually not a single reason for me to care. There's just something so freeing about deliberately staining my clothes.