Posts Tagged knitting
I am imagining my poor neglected blog hudled in a corner – looking up at me with BPD style ‘HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!’ eyes. I am accused. I am guilty.
I went mad. That does not usually stop me wiritng but it did this time. I think I feel uninteresting. My life drips along. Things happen. I knit. I sit. I stare. I smoke. That is it. But…post-going-mad-and-ending-up-stroking-owls-in-a-psych-hopsital (there really were real life owls) I realised I missed my silly little blog, so I have come back, tail between my legs and rattling with good intentions to Post Every Day. (It won’t happen, but they say it is the thought that counts, right? Does that gets out clause of life work in this situation too?)
This little one was my favorite. There was also a classic ‘Harry Potter Owl’ (obvs a better, more understandable nickname than the actual name-of-breed which I seem to have forgotten) and a massive Eagle Owl. So that was fun..not that I would put myself in hospital just to poke an owl, but it was an added bonus. I also got to make stuff from clay (a very wobbly 5-years-olds-can-do-better filter tip pot).
Where was I going with this?
Ah. yes. I have ultimately decided it is okay to Blog even if I do feel as If my life lacks achievment, worth, and anything remotely interesting…mostly because I feel all that is a Naughty Lie told my Depression Head and causes me to isolate myself more until things get to the pre-hospital stage where I am incapable of talking/moving/thinking because everything just feels so fucking worthless.
I am still doing all the crafty things. Phone cases still being my specialism. I still think it is one of the best ‘recovery tools’ I have stumbled across, it keeps my hands busy (important as I am a terrible skin picker, and when anxious I get crazy hand tics that only serve to make me look more crazy which = people staring which = more axiety. An evil spiral. So I have been known to knit while walking..really.) I have also disocvered card making, which I enjoy because it swallows up whole chunks of day in one big crafty lump..but I do not yet feel my efforts are worhty of blog photos. but, when I can afford it (emblellishments are an expensive little habbit) I endevour to become amazing so I can show off my skills to Blog Land. Yeah! Bet you are so damn excited now too. *rolls eyes*
Anyway, I recently made my friend a phone case..I learnt how to knit with alternating colours, and bought a big mutli packet of buttons..the two sort of got lumped together in my glee of having new things to play with. This is the result:
this is my most recent one, for a friend. I know the buttons are sort of wonky. I was having a minor (major) panic attack and button-sewing as distraction. Am hoping she will think it looks ‘quirky and handmade’ rather than ‘shit’. If you know me IRL..or sort of IRL..like..Good Place Friends (you know how you are) feel free to give me and order for colours/style/dimensions and I will happily knit you a case and send it your way. As the people who I keep ringing to buy houses from keep reminding me, it is not like I have a job!
Yes. I am house shopping. Although, I am still a bit disillusioned to find it is so much more stressful than nipping to Tesco’s for doughnuts. It IS a Good Exciting Positive Thing..but it also makes e want to tear my hair out. I have lived in many places…I think i have moved about 7 times since fleeing my parents abode at 17, but they were all tempoary places to sleep at, not really Houses To Live In so it did not matter that they were mouldy shitholes. Now it does and i feel far too grown up for my liking.
We are also looking to buy our own furniture. Buy it! Which also feels Old And Wise as i have always, always managed to find furnished housing that the past. The idea of a blank slate appeals though, partly because I can choose the ugly furniture rather than having it forced on me, and because the metaphor is a nice one. I feel like I am nesting. Me, the Boy and the cat we are going to re-home (even if boy is not yet aware of this.) So, furniture is expensive, everyone knows that..but this is the first time I have even internet-window-shopped for things like shelves. I found an amazing second hand recycled furniture place, that sells perfectly good ‘preloved’ stuff very cheaply. Am literally itching to go there. Asdie from craft shops I can’t really think of a more appealing day trip. (and I do realize that says far more about me than it should!)
On the notes of ‘objects that tell you too much about my personality’ I also seem to have developed an object-crush on wrapping paper.
Seriously. As well as constantly Googling Houses, Stuff to put in house, Stuff to put in house that I will never ever afford, ever and doughnuts I am also addicted to posh fancy wrapping paper. I love it. Possibly more than the thrill of wondering what is inside. I need to send a gift soon & I begun the supposedly simple task of shopping for some gift wrap (online of course, the internet is the social phobics bestest friend) and, I can’t do it. I can’t buy any because I simply want ALL of it. I tried to choose some last night (aka 4 am this morning >.<) and my ‘basket’ came to a total of £20. *jaw drop* I am very worried a similar thing will occur when I actually arrive at shop for house things. Every room will be burting with chairs. There will be nothing by chairs and sofa’s.
Easter. That happened too. I dislike the huuuuge amount of Eating-Diosrder panic that ensues when chocolate is around..but, I did get to wear my bunny ears (which I will happily admit, I have worn in public more than once, and to sevral seminars during my undergrad degree).
Despite apperances I am not actually posing in that photo! I was watching the dog and had no idea that Boy has stolen my camera!
I have run out of words. Which is probably a good thing. But i will be back, hopefully a lot sooner than the last time.
After all the fear, and interview angst, and my ‘errr, I can’t actually remember what I did in my undergrad’ answer to the ‘tell us about your previous modules question’ and my mad twitching and my shaking and the anxiety…and even though I said I have a morbid fear of submitted my work for aplication and even though I am pretty sure they though I was raving mad…
I got a letter.
A letter accepting me for my full time Creative Writing Masters commencing in September!!
This is turning about to be a Fabulous Saturday. Knitting, drinking tea and basking in my own glory. Fantastic.
One of the things I am most excited about is getting a library card with my face on that says ‘Post Graduate student’ then..when I get mistaken for a 12 I can whip it out and say ‘Do you know any 12 yr olds doing a postgrad, eh, eh,eh?!!’ …well, I’d never have the balls to do that, I am far too much of a wuss but it is nice to dream.
There is one good thing about suffering from an utter lack of any form of self esteem, confidence and self belief: good things are even more fucking good as they are just so surprising.
Will now count down the days to September…
6 months 6 days
Not that long, eh?
Well, Valentines day has been and gone, but I failed to make the obligatory ‘He loves me’ Blog post…so I thought I’d givee you a break down of the day in photos…
The Wonderful Fiance did his shopping with Interflora. I was putting war-paint on my face when the door bell went (by door bell I of course mean BigDog barking…) and I looked out the upstairs window to see an unknown yellow car in our driveway.
The following things went through my head –
The Bad Robbers have a yellow car?!
A man with a yellow car has come to kill us with a knife?!
Bananas in Pajamas are making a guest appearance?!!!
Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers?!!!
So due to my mental ineffectiveness which causes me to constantly jump to the totally wrong conclusion is every situation it took me a while to answer the door.
When I did get to it the interfloara man was shivering slighly and I can only sepculate that this is what caused him to look at my lumps-of-foundation-not-yet-smooshed-in on my face and contort his feautures into an expression that could only have meant:
‘Someone is giving YOU flowers?!!..and a Balloon..and Chocolates??!!!’
But he passed them over nonetheless and I proceed to dance around the front froom in joy. Not only was I not being attacked by Bad Robbers I also had a balloon!!! (oh, and really lovely flowers and chocolates..)
I gave The Finace a new coat a few weeks before Valentines…his old one was akin to him wearing a tiny square of my knitting to try and keep warm..so he was happy & surprised when I gave him some stupidly cheap Army toys to keep him entertined while I chased a balloon around the room…
That was a good day..and I am happy to report the flowers are still alive and in a vase. The balloon is hidden behind a curtian where it will not terrifying BigDog every time he comes into the room (Wuss) and the army men toys are blancing on the top of the TV Boy uses for his Xbox so they can join in when he kills stuff with pretend guns…My mum did tell me she walked in on him talking to them t’other day though, double bless.
Yesterday was a good day too, whivh is why I have cohsen to replicate it here.
Some uninformed and discriminatory people think that those who are on long term sick and unemployed just spend all day doing exactly as they please….
and i’d like to say we do…
although here is the point where I feel obliged to point out that both Helen and Boy have jobs, they just also have days off..and anyone who gets me to sew and also puts up with my exhausting mood-swings, upsets, moaning, isolating, clinging, fighting, and manicness deserves some kid of award. A picture tells 1,000 words..but the situation calls for 10,000..or something..
But lovely days, lovely photos.
It makes me laugh that when I was an angst ridden 14yr old teenager I’d have hated the idea of sewing and knitting..and being proud of engaging in such activities would have made me seethe. The teapot, however, has always been a source of my affections..
That’s it for this post, unless I can think of a witty and entertaining ending…
No, I can’t.
I was sitting on sofa with Fluffcat who was trying to steal my knitting (and failing, i think he thinks I may be blind, I can’t fail to notice the big fat furry cat paw..)
what do I do when I am bored?’
My friendly nicotine addiction! My turn-to when I am bored/sad/happy/lonely/tired/hungry/breathing..of course! Thank you mind. (just to point out, it did actually appear in my head with a massive green arrow in my mind, things often seem to have big green arrows when I imagine them, I am a little synathesic but the arrows a new, and amusing).
Only..there has been a bit of a saga going on..I have sneaky bad ninja lighters!! It is driving me half crazy.
I’ll never need rely on a lighter that hides from me and breaks on me EVER again!!
..oh so I initially thought
Yeah, you guessed what happened next…
I feel that photo just about does my terror and upset justice (although there was a lot more swearing and hand flapping than indicated).
I hate the fact this is not the first or second time I have made this mistake either..and there has only been one isntance when I -haven’t- been sober.Smoking isn’t cool, kids. (and I am going to need to get my fringe trimmed. )
Mkay, so – this blog is having a good influence on me… I can freaking knit!! Well..sort of. Casting on/off invloves me lobbing the wool et al at my mother while pulling my petulant five year old face..but garter stitch? Check Me Out
..I am not going to post a photo because I am lazy and I want to wait until my second ball of wool comes tomorrow.. but I do think I deserve one, or five, of these:
Did you used to get those in school? I was a bright kid, but growing up I was anxious and awkward. I began skipping geography lessons because I had a habit of choking every.single.lesson. Of course I was sitting next to the effortlessly beautiful, popular (thin!) girl…
I used to take water into all my lessons, obsessively, but for some odd reason geography was the only one i’d nearly die in. Anyway, I was never really a sticker-getting student. My handwriting was terrible, my spelling poor and my concentration span usually would include the lesson plan..but I’d have doodles of stars/dogs/zombies all over my work.
I am also chronically left handed, most people know this leads to an total inability to use fountain pens without destroy the nibs and having an uncanny ability to smudge work across every single page. I always wanted to be the class swat though..but because I wasn’t really made for it I used to steal stickers from other kids hjumpers when they were left in the cloackroom during the summer months.
I often wondered if my parents ever realized my supposed achievement were direcltly related to the weather. If feel a little bad for my school-age stealing..but it wasdn’t as bad as my ingrained sens of fairness which extened to the ‘Lunch Box Drama’.. I used to be stupidly jelous of other peoples lunches. I’d have a damp ham or sweaty cheese sandwhich, a brusied apple and on a good day a penguin bar.
I wanted to live in the homes of people who had fluffy white bread rolls and exocitic biscutis like Mini milkways or BN’s. (remeber them?..I can still hum the theme tune) So.Good. (In hindsight the faces are scary but still..) One day I had reached my fill of comparing my craptastic lunch to the exciting ones of other people..I had squash in a flask that my Brother had gobbed in and my friends had cartons of ribena..or in some cases, Coca cola or Lemonade.
The Green monster came out in me, but, being the slightly creative, kooky kid I was I took a notebook to school and listed all the names of all the kids in my class. Then I’d give them a happy or sad face next to thier name indicating if thier lunch was good or ‘bad’. Once I had the information I spent a few days plotting my next move. I did not just feel for my own injustice but also for my other struggling school friends who looks on enviously on at the Peanut butter and Jam sandwiches some kids unknowingly gobbled before lurching off to play Cops and Robbers.
Oh, if only they knew how much we all wanted to be them!
It came to me in the middle of the night, as all the best ideas do. I was going to right all the wrongs!
In our school the games we played at break time depended on which dinner ladies were manning the playground. Wednesday was hailed as the ‘best’ day because the dinner lady was espeically lax so the more violent games could be played without too much fear of getting caught.
This particular dinner lady also worked in the libary and used the time on her lunchtime duty to hide behind a tree and smoke..because of this she was popular with some of the older cool kids and so, even if she caught us punching ten bells of hell out of each other her fan group would hold up her old-lady waddle toward us because they literally hung from her legs.
So, it was a Wednesday and I fuzzed smudged and doodled my way through a specially taxing spelling test not even caring that Billy and Emma got stickers and I did not. Break time finally came. Everyone filed out..a thin, steady line of children which expanded and broke off in the open air. I approached the cloack room on tip-toes..my Nija skills already honed from my sticker-nicking stage.
Everyone was instructed to keep their lunches stored under thier coats, hung in a room near the playground and toilets. I was quick and efficent..picked on lunchbox from my good list and one from the bad and taking them into the girls toilet cubicle with my heart hammering in my chest. It was such a buzz and I decicded who ‘deserved’ what..
I felt a little Godlike.
I have never grinned that much through maths, ever. By the time the actualk lunch bell rang I looked as if someone had put itching powder in my dull grey pleated school skirt. Unfortunately the anticipation is better than the event..and for most of my childhood escapades I was somewhat upset when i -wasn’t- caught, I’d be a crappy criminal because I like the praise and grudging admiration of my pre-planned dastardly actions. So..the climax was a tad underwhelming. I didn’t really realize that the normal kids did not spend ALL their time staring at the lunch of others..
So, while Sanjay was shocked his normal health-conscious mother had given him chocolate spread and a Twix rather than his normal salad and a pear I bet he went home and thanked her, much to her confusion..rather than my anticipated of boundless joy and devotion forever aimed at me, their selfless lunchbox savior..
I do admit I have not utterly grown out of this packed lunch obsession.
I blogged a while ago about setting fire to the kitchen while boiling eggs and am still making my mother and the boyfriend daily lunches for work. Last night I was miserable, utterly dejected..and the main reason was my Mum asked for boring, plain Pate in her sandwhich rather than one of my more ‘jazzy’ and ‘exciting’ experiential creations.
The only reason I regret deleting Facebook is because i’d sort of like to see how all those kids who got stickers..and the kids who used to watch me choke in geography..actually turned out. Are they happy? Is there a direct link between sticker attianment and lunchbox contents and future gains?! I do not really know how my post about my new found knitting talent turned into a sociological query about stickers/packed lunches…Meh.