When I was about 13 I decided I wanted to make a quilt. Having no idea what this entailed, I settled in with a pile of pink and purple fabrics (what else), pinking shears, a spool of white thread and a needle. I painstakingly cut out piles of squares, and then commenced sewing them together. By hand. With no regard for seam allowances (of which I knew naught), ironing, backstitch, or really anything else.
After finishing one row of squares, I set forth on the second row. When that was done I eagerly set both rows together and still remember the crushing disappointment when I discovered the squares did not line up in the slightest (see ignorance of seam allowances, above). I think I put my quilt down for at least a year at that point.
At some later point, still while in middle or high school, I picked it up again and slowly assembled the whole mess, and then put it in a closet never to be seen again until last week, when my mom unearthed it while cleaning out the basement. I am so thrilled it's survived! Yes, it's a hot mess, but I can't wait to wash it (it's got some questionable stains, possibly from sitting with festering dressmaker's chalk for 20 years), patch up some holes and make it into the quilt it always wanted to be. Maybe one day I'll even get over the color scheme.