Bring on the Knitting Olypmics! Tomorrow night baby, is when I begin!
You know it's a sad, sorry state of affairs when you are this excited to start something new. Maybe it's just because you're faced with your quarter-life crisis, and you're desperate for something to challenge you, make you feel like you're accomplished. You know, the one where you're in your twenties and all of a sudden you go, JESUS!
My friends live all over.
Hi friends I don't talk to enough! I miss you!
Do I watch too much TV or not enough?
How can I make my job more interesting? (blogging at work, mayhaps?)
When will my checking account balance not distress me?
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up!
Am I grown up?
Do I have to grow up?
When will I KNOW THINGS?
When will I figure out what I'm supposed to be doing?
Where is my direction?
Where have all the cowboys gooooooonnnnnnne?
I have 1500 questions and three answers.
1.) something lovable who needs me to save it. Any breed.
2.) having one is just mean.
3.) nacho cheese.
In 6-year-old Kat's life plan, I was supposed to be married, a cowgirl, and have 2 children who thought I was awesome and who I let eat ANY TYPE of junky cereal that they pleased because I UNDERSTOOD THEM and knew how to braid, which made me THE BEST.
Don't get me wrong, PHEW on not being
a) married yet or
b) a cowgirl
(with my set love of over-adornment, imagine the things that would have fringe!)
This Knitting Olympics hoo ha, yes, is nerdy to an extent but something I NEED. What I'm wondering is whether or not I'm a bad person for being excited about stepping up to a CRAFTY challenge. On one hand, go me for seeking out a challenge, any challenge, SOMETHING THAT I HAVEN'T DONE YET. SOMETHING NEW. Just because I'm crafty (and oooh JUST YOUR TYPE) doesn't mean that I'm not intelligent. Why should I feel inadequate that the only challenging prospect in my for my brain and hands are making a sweater that would be $24.99 at H & M and perpetually on sale.
People seem to think knitting is cute. It's not all serene clicking of needles as I contemplate my navel. It's rigorous in it's own right. You have to think about size, pattern, shape, color, tension, and uniformity thereof. You have to know how to read a whole other language, know yourself and your technique, and have clear goals and vision.
Sure, I'm not being academically challenged, but who gives a fuck? A challenge is a challenge!
Am I a bad person for thinking that? Give me some sticks any day-- I'll make things. There is no shame in making things. All the kiddies on the fabulous Project Runway have amazing brains to figure out how to do all the things they do. They are really smart, to be able to think like that. But who's to say that is less valuable than other sorts of smartness? I would rather be smart like them, in a tangible way than be good at arguing about politics.
Shoulda thought of that before I went to college to learn about politics, but OH WELL. Shoulda thought of that before I sunk so deep into the squishy comfort of DC and learned to love it for other reasons aside from people's egos barking at each other in big white buildings. I learned a lot of things in college that don't belong in books or classrooms that are worth more to me than anything I read in a book about other people doing things.
It's like the Grey's Anatomy episode from Sunday night. (ew, yes, I'm going there) There are doers and there are watchers. I'm really sick of watching (and reading, and looking, and staring at the wall because OMG it's not even THREE PM YET) and ready to do! To make! To create! To live!