Posts Tagged ‘mental’


March 6, 2014

I knit my first intarsia project a while ago.  It’s hideous.  I’m kind of embarrassed by it.  I called it the Sad Penguin.  Such a mess.

Here is an in-progress picture.  (I am apparently incapable of not sharing my shame, however powerful.)


If you turned it inside out, you’d notice where I cut the white yarn and knotted it to the other bits of the hat in a mistaken bid to try make it go better as I knit circularly.  I was 2/3 up the white before I realized I didn’t need to cut it, I could just sort of wrap it around the blue yarn and knit onward.   No wonder this pattern was designed to be knitted flat.  *HEADDESK*

I had invested too much time in this not to finish.  (Beside, I had a good amount of white yarn in that breast/tummy area of the penguin that couldn’t be used for anything else because I’d cut them like a fool. )  I thought I would keep the hat and wear it in desperation one day when all other hats were unavailable or something equally self-flagellating.

Last month my daughter found the hat and is wearing it pretty happily.  She loves it.

All’s well that end’s well.  Lesson here is that I should stop being so self-judgemental and if stuff doesn’t turn out, I should think that would still be okay.  And also that kids like stuff that might be sort of not perfect.  That’s okay, too.  (I mean, we’re all redeemed by other people’s kindness and love.  Why not this terrible-looking hat and my feelings towards it?)


post regret

January 9, 2014

I have just posted a new story.  It’s a genderbend het.  It’s explicit.  It’s nervewracking.

I should never post while there is time during the day that I can worry that nobody likes me, that they really  hate me and I should go eat some worms.

I don’t know why I post when I feel so terrible the day of posting.

*goes to hide*

Note:  I had a lovely comment for another fic which while it doesn’t exactly make me feel better about my current issues, it does make me feel better in general.

Clapotis progress

November 11, 2013

So I’ve been knitting away on the scarf.  (And to take a break from the scarf, I’ve knit a hat.  But that’s not what’s important here.  I just needed a gift for someone and I liked the pattern.)

I’ve been scared to death of making this scarf.  I ripped back a couple of times already.  I was more than half-way done and I was contemplating yet another rip back.  There are important, serious reasons for it.  I made one edge a bit too tight.  I consulted with a couple of other knitters and they assure me that it’s hardly noticeable and if it bothers me by the time I finish knitting it, it will probably block out.  Blocking out, as anybody knows, is a lie.  It’s just that when people say that, they mean that when you finish knitting it, you’ve got a finished product and even if the urge is still with you, you won’t have the heart to rip that sucker out.  They’re probably right, at least for me.  (It’s negative knitting.  It rips out the heart as well.)

But the reasons why I’ve been so hesitant about this project (I hate ripping out, but I have no problems with it here) is because I want it to be perfect.  I’ve just never had an item that mattered to me like this – most of the time, I’ve knit and been done with it.

Part if it has been that the yarn is among the most expensive I’ve ever bought.  (It’s pretty good yarn.)   I’ve been thinking and longing for this scarf since I saw it, months, maybe years before I actually started knitting seriously.  I’ve got a facebook post about it.  (I just checked, dating October 2012, a month before I took that knitting class.)  It’s almost as if all the knitting I have done up to this point has been to gear up for making this scarf.

This thinking is stupid.  The scarf is not that hard to make.  It’s a bit of an exercise in patience, because it is a long scarf/shawl/stole, but it’s nothing like an entire outfit of colorwork in skinny yarn with teeny-tiny needles.  It’s just in my own head.  There’s a new-to-me technique of dealing with alternating multiple balls of yarn (because, hello expensive hand-painted yarn that is only related to each other skein in the same colorway like I’m related to my second cousins) which is sort of a pain.  The idea was terribly intimidating.  I’m over it now, though.  (I’ve got 3 on the go at once, but can’t figure out how to do a fourth.)


If you’re wondering, the scarf is turning out pretty well, otherwise.  I’m really enjoying the knitting and the yarn is lovely.   I’m trying to get into the headspace of letting the process go on and not getting in the way.  If the product doesn’t turn out well, it’ll be fine.  Nothing in the world will be much different.  I might go ahead and buy more of this yarn to make another one.  That would be it.  The sky will not fall, my children will be the same, and I will have a finished scarf that is slightly below my dreams but as good as I could have done at the time.

I’m dealing with the force of my own expectations here.  I don’t know where I get off expecting so much.  I’m working on it as I’m working on this scarf.   Think kindly of the crazy lady in the red scarf, please.

Meant to Be

February 19, 2013

Sometimes, talking to W is just the best.

I was saying something about how fandom loves Tony Stark (aka Ironman) and Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) paired up, romantically. It’s interesting to me, but I don’t know anything much about the background of the comics and I watched the movies half-asleep. I don’t mind reading some, even though it’s not my fandom, especially if the fics have been recommended to me. So I was just vocalizing my surprise at the EXPLOSION of fic when W says, “It’s obvious.”

Me: Why? (I am genuinely puzzled. I think the characters are interesting, but as I ain’t comix, I don’t know.)

W: Because bad boy/good boy dynamics, that’s why.

Me: (pondering) What? (Catching on) Oh. Oh! Oooooh.

He’s not even a fanboy, nor does he have the slash goggles (that I know of), but geez, he can sure cut through to the core, can’t he? (And I admire him for it.)

In knitting news, I finished his socks (and my second pair and my first toe-ups). It was almost a tragedy, as I had fitted the first sock on his foot the whole way – making him try it on every other row practically. The second sock I only tried on his foot a couple of times, so the ankle was bit tight. He said he couldn’t get it over his heel – but I was all, “GRR. You WILL put on this sock.  Even if I have to cut off the bind-off.” And he did, without cutting the binding-off, and he wore them the whole day, so it seemed okay. (Unless it was because he couldn’t take them off without fear of losing part of his foot.) He told me he isn’t going to be wearing them to work – they’re too short. He seems happy with them, though, so it’s a success.

I probably should have made the leg longer – if you look, they would have been close to identical if I’d made the first one (the one on the left) just a couple of inches taller in the leg.

Edited to add: Yarn is Opal X-Large 8-fach, green-gray colorway.


January 15, 2013

I like to listen to podcasts.  Especially comedy podcasts.  They’re great for when I’m knitting or cooking or doing a little housework.  I like the voices, the different viewpoints, the surprise of guests, the whole thing.  I like not being distracted by the picture, like I would be with television.  Plus, I can carry the thing around from room to room if I need to.

And if I like the speaker/guest I will go see if they’ve got stuff on the Internet.  Often, I’m really surprised when I actually see what the speaker looks like.  Just the reality of that person – the individual characteristics of hair and face aren’t usually what I picture.  Because I think the voices give a clue as to what the person looks like, a clue that is often false.   The off-set in my head was a weird thing.

Then I realized what it is that I do.  If I like what the person is saying, and I think it’s funny or deep or interesting, I imagine the speaker is really attractive, man or woman.  (To me.  Other things could vary.)

When I said this to W, he looked at me and just *twinkled* – like I had give him the compliment.


December 3, 2012

I have found the word for the thing I do all the time:


Many a thing have I misheard only to have W look at me like I’m crazy when I repeat it.  Now, at least, I know the word for the condition.  And even better, there’s more words in the wikipedia definition  – about related words.  (Soramimi, and eggcorns,  malapropisms and, and mumpsimus.  I would color those words in rainbows and sparklies, but that might be a bit too hard on the eyes.)

*swoons with joy*

Because I’m a lady…

May 11, 2012

Warning: post contains talk about female body functions. (Which I hope will turn off no one, because all of my 2 readers are women.)

So, I went to the bathroom today and found out I had started my period. No biggie. (Although it seems ridiculous, I’ve been having a period for nearly 30 years of my life, paying my biological dues, and there really isn’t a better way of figuring out I’m having a period than going to the bathroom and looking down with an “Oh?”)

I pull up my underpants and do that little scuttle you do to the dispenser. (We have dispensers that dispense sanitary items for free in the bathrooms of my workplace.) I turn the crank, get a box and go back into the stall.

I pull down my pants, prepare to place sanitary item in my underwear, and then open the box. Nothing is inside the box. I actually stick a finger in the box while looking inside to make certain nothing is in the box. What the – ?

Are they kidding me? This is not something very nice to do to someone starting their period – I’m just saying. It’s sort of infuriating. It’s like a trick, or something.

I pull up my pants again and scuttle over to the dispenser again. (I’m hoping nobody sees me. It’s awkward enough, really, when I’m by myself.) I turn the crank, get second box. Go back into stall, and this time, I do not pull down my pants. I will not be fooled!

I open the box and it is only after I make sure there is something in there that I proceed with this most delicate of operations.

Anyway, even though the sanitary items were free, I still sort of felt ripped off.

shutting down a thread

December 8, 2011

I am sort of infamous for shutting down conversations.  I either say the wrong thing, go off in an awkward direction, or say nothing at all.  I am spreading this tendency to the internet.  Here, in semi-redacted glory, is my finest attempt yet at communicating like a regular person.  (Things in <> are redacted.  Everything else was as posted.)

Friend is talking about not wanting to go to one of those parties that are covers for selling you stuff you don’t want.  Then the discussion gets onto those “lingerie” parties – I shall call it “Intimate Touch” but you all know what I’m talking about.

(And for the record, I was just trying to be funny.)

ME:  “Dear Saleslady, I’m afraid I shall have to decline going to your “Intimate Touch” party. I am looking for a venue more suited to my tastes. If you should become a purveyor of something like a F*ckin’ Freak Show, come back and I will be more than happy to attend. Thank you very much. 🙂 ”

ME:  I mean, honestly. Just call it like it is and you might actually have a chance with me. “Intimate Touch.” My ass. Yes. That’s right. I said it. (Although I have bought some nice things at a <Cooking Stuff> party once. But I am a cooking gadgets whore.)

ME: Although I probably would also attend something like a F*ckin’ Freak Show. Even though it might be hard to find babysitters. (ha.)

FRIEND OF FRIEND:  It sounds like you are more than just a cooking gadgets whore….

ME:  If one is attending a “Intimate Touch” party, I should imagine that one is also a whore. But perhaps one calls themselves “an escort.”

FRIEND:  <MKONGLISH7>, I heart you. Meet <FRIEND OF FRIEND>. I imagine the two of you would get along quite well.

ME:  ‎(Rant Here – please skip if you are easily embarrassed.) Late on television (which I watched an ungodly amount while my children were infants) there would be shows – young women dressed very nicely with good manicures who would try to sell things to you that were clearly adult materials. But then they’d go on and on about how nice the case is, and how-well known the manufacturer is. Are You Kidding Me? WHO CARES ABOUT THE CASE? I don’t care if it’s made from genuine nauga-vinyl from elf ears – okay? Sell THE THING! It’s your job – work it! Stop giggling and acting like you don’t know what it’s for. I have babies – I know what those things are for. SELL IT!

ME:  Oh, hi <FRIEND OF FRIEND>. Nice to meet you.

Aaand cue the crickets.  Oh yes, I have killed the thread.  If I went about it now, I’d probably mention something about only caring about the color of sale item if it glowed in the dark, say, or the necessity of mentioning battery life.  Sigh.

I always do this.  I mean, I think it’s funny, but it’s also sort of awful, because maybe they don’t think I’m funny.  Maybe they just think I’m an-honest-to-swearword freak.

It’s hard not knowing if people think you’re funny or they think they need to back away from you slowly when you approach them.

EDITED to fix redacted bits.

my co-pilot

October 21, 2011

I mentioned the possibility of writing something steampunk with W recently. We talked about how awful the Victorians were. And then how I was still getting sucked into the idea of an airship pilot thing – but yet how I was driven insane by the idea of how much training each person must have, how big a ship could be, the ranks on an airship, what background knowledge a pilot of that period must have. W was then later pretty cute. He handed me a book from his personal library about Darwin’s first ship captain – as an analogue for some of that kind of thing. I guess I’m just going to have that write that thing now.  (Yes, this is how we do cute.  We trade books.  Don’t judge.)

I have the outline scratched out already. It’s turning into a regency romance, but with airships. I don’t know how this happens with things in my head, but there you go.  (W might be conscripted into reading draft – but I’m not certain this is his cup of tea.  Too bad, W.  That’s what you get for being so cute.)

And in another news, I think I’ve mostly finished my first attempt at exchange fic. Now I’ve got to finish up second attempt and figure out what to do with it. Can I submit it, do you think? Would it be worth hurrying up to do so? Hmm. Deep questions. The kind of questions that require something starchy and sweet to ponder. Maybe a babysitter too.

little staring problem

July 15, 2011

Yeah.  That was me at the playground the other day.  The lady with the little staring problem.

That’s because a white dude in a tank top pushing a kid on a swing had MY last name tattooed across his bicep in olde Englishe scripte.

I don’t have one of the top 5 Korean last names (never mind a Korean last name that could be mistaken for a non-Asian last name – Im, Kim, Park, Paik, Pak, Lee, Ee, Choi, Choe, Che, Yun, Yoon, etc.) so it was a disorienting moment to find in the Great White North (where I live) to see my Korean Last Name on some dude’s arm.

A Dude That Is Not Korean.

(His kid didn’t seem Korean or even partly-Korean to me, either, so I don’t know.  Maybe he’s some part ethnic Korean that doesn’t show?  Maybe he’s a fan of some kinds of media or some multinational corporation?  I got nothing.  The best I could come up with is maybe there’s some word in some other language that sounds and spells like my name in English.)

And yes, I am visibly East Asian looking – so that’s my level of comparison.