I have an ottoman in my room that I use to store all my art/craft-related supplies. The lid’s broken and the blue cloth on the inside is torn, and I don’t use it much, but inside I have everything neatly organized.
Yarn, knitting needles, crochet hooks, yarn needles, templates for cards and envelopes, stickers, googly eyes, embroidery thread, felt, ribbon, bracelet making kits, pony beads, party bags, and other random scraps from craft sets that I never finished.
But mainly it’s filled with paper.
An origami gift set, a package of origami paper I from the UK that was imported from Korea, two packs I recently got as gifts, animal print paper, a pack of Post-it notes, two stacks of square notepaper, scrapbook paper, vellum, brightly colored printer paper, brightly colored notebook paper, cardstock.
Yeah, it’s a lot.
I had folded with all these materials before, but I never finished a single pack. (the notepaper itself was 500 sheets) I needed to
get rid of use up all this paper somehow.
After folding the Platonic solids (not shown because they’re boring and falling apart already) I decided to move on to a more…interesting model.
Five intersecting tetrahedra.
Nevermind that it involved making the same simple module 30 times.
Nevermind that getting three modules to lock in a corner never actually worked out well.
Nevermind that I had no idea how to intersect the tetrahedra so they actually looked nice. (Mathematically, each vertex is supposed to be on the vertex of a dodecahedron. In reality, I have no idea how to create that.)
I felt like all the repetition was reducing me down to slave labor. Why was I doing this? (Answer: Because if I didn’t keep my hands busy, I’d start attacking my hair. Also, bragging rights.)
Mindless repetition is the one aspect I hate about school math (and life in general), yet it’s essential in modular origami since that’s where all the pretty symmetry comes from.
The instructions said that assembly was the hardest part. I found it to be the most interesting. Though it may have led to some dark late-night thoughts and mild existential crises that led to me wondering about my trich. Crying may have ensued.
The day after I had ragequitted on the third tetrahedra, I was eating lunch with a few friends, when I had confessed that I had cried the night before. When they asked why, rather than saying trich, I blurted out, “I was doing some origami, and MY INTERSECTIONS WEREN’T TETRAHEDRAING PROPERLY. IT WAS A METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE. DON’T JUDGE ME OK?”
I got the proper teasing about being a nerd, and we went on with our conversation.