Craftiness

Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that - one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Isn't that a lovely quote? I really like that one. Sewing has always been one of those things I've really enjoyed--well, craftiwork in general--from when I was pretty little to now. I just don't have as much time anymore.

However, lately I've had a little more free time than I have in the past. That might possibly be a lie. I don't know that I have any more time, necessarily, but since I was at school all last weekend and I worked really diligently, I did have free time on Sunday, which I used to begin a little bit of needlework, finishing a little fairy doll I started long, long ago. When Lora got home Sunday night, she looked at me on my bed with my bits of felt and thread and asked if she could make a dragon. Of course! So we spent an hour or so being the only two college freshmen on campus spending any part of the weekend playing with craft supplies and musing about whether her dragon or my wizard would win an Arthurian battle. (Correct answer: my wizard.) And then I wanted to try out some of the new stitches in my embroidery book, so I began practicing with silver thread on some fuschia felt (this is really nice, soft, thick, smooth felt, I ordered a lot of it from--I think it was Hearthsong--around two years ago) and although I eventually had to go to bed, leaving something uncompleted just bugs me...so every spare moment--and a few that weren't so much spare as procrastination--for the next week, I spent stitching this and that. It's been a really long time since I had time to do anything like that, and I forgot how soothing it was. My mama likes to quilt; I'd like to but don't really have the patience for long, straight lines and the big-projectness of it. I would've gone crazy hemming sheets in the olden days. I like to see results more quickly, and embroidery does that--you can spend days on a flower, or minutes, depending on how you feel, but it's gonna get done in a decent amount of time, and you get to use pretty colors and different types of stitching, and so it's interesting, but you don't have to count, so you can let your mind wander a little.

To put things in perspective, I haven't had the chance to work on this poor little doll since last Thanksgiving at Aunt Brett's house. Although I have managed to knit a little so far in college (and I mean, it's November. It's been a while), I began a new knitting project on Saturday, too. My dorm (well, nine people from my dorm, anyway) spent Saturday in Old Salem, but at 11 that night seven of us squeezed onto the couch in the classroom to watch Casablanca, and, since I don't really need to be able to see or think all that hard about simple seed and stockinette stitches, I worked on a dishcloth. And on Monday night, when I had to go halfway across campus to the Koury Business Center Digital Theatre to see a documentary on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal called Standard Operating Procedure, I took my knitting and got quite a bit done. Who knew torture and knitting would go so well together?

I admit that I did get a strange look or two at the documentary showing. It reminded me of the old ladies who like to peek over my shoulder when I knit at my grandparents' church, certain that the scarf I'm knitting is really a pair of baby booties. (Insert pair of rolling eyes here. They're nice people, but they breed them suspicious over there. I think they feel they're justified as long as they remind me that "Jesus loves you forever'n'ever, child, no matter what happens!" Sigh.) My ethics teacher, who was sitting behind me, seemed very interested in my work, at least, and Dr. Swimelar smiled at me. (She's liked me better lately, though, because I've started talking more in class.) Plus I got two inches done, so I really didn't care what anybody else thought.

Now, this weekend I'm here again, and I need to spend time on homework, of course--I have a huge paper due for Global on Tuesday, and I want to make it seriously excellent, plus work for other classes--and I'll be sure to spend some time with my dormmates, but I'll probably have time for some sewing and knitting, which makes me ridiculously happy. Recharging time!

I wanted to post some pictures, anyway.

1. Coaster front (the back is plain green). Bordered in blanket stitch, then, somewhat in order, pekinese, heavy chain, bonnet, herringbone, feather, double feather, wheatear chain, coral, wave, star, sheaf, closed feather, basque, open chain, Chinese knot and backstitch, lazy daisy and coral, spiderweb + coral + lazy daisy, Jacobean couching, vandyke. It looks a lot better in real life, seriously.

2. This is my Thanksgiving-colored dolly, no name yet. That skirt was originally in four tiny pieces, and now it's adorable, right? I love her.

3. This is Lora's voodoo doll and my dolly. No comment.

4. I was on my bed; this is Lora crafting on the floor. I'm afraid I have no pictures of the epic dragon. Haha, oh well.

Why Won't They Just Do It My Way?

I am returning this otherwise good typing paper to you because someone has printed gibberish all over it and put your name at the top.
-English Professor, Ohio University

Have you ever written a paper and then really, really, really wished you could present it instead of just turn it in, so the teacher could hear it just as you were thinking it? Because obviously they're going to read it wrong, you just know it.

Well, Global midterm? Yeah. Braye is going to read this all not as I say it in my head, and then he is going to think it is ridiculous. And I think they frown upon breaking into a teacher's office while they're grading papers solely to read yours aloud with hand gestures. Hm.

Ok, that's all. Pardon the grumpiness.

Pointless, egotistic update :]

Modesty: The art of encouraging people to find out for themselves how wonderful you are. ~Source Unknown

My note: Or you could just help them out. :]

So that religion test? I got a 96. And he did not exactly hand out the A's. Also, we were talking yesterday about rituals surrounding the ceremonies/rites of passage of death, birth, and marriage, and I actually spoke up and argued my point well enough that he looked stumped, pointed at me, and said, "Good. That's a 10."

So far, I haven't gotten anything back that's not a good grade. Crossing my fingers that it goes like that for everything...wish me luck. Ok, done bragging on myself now.

Wouldn't it be nice if separation of church and state meant no tests in religion class?

As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in schools.
-Author unknown

I have my first real college test today, in my Introduction to Religious Studies class. I'm pretty sure it will go well--at least, I hope so--I know all the material, and my suitemate, Kate, who has the class Tuesday-Thursday, said it wasn't as hard as Dr. York portrayed it.

So I'm going to go study my God stuff. And Dawkins (blech), and Marx, and Feuerbacher, and definitions for animism and henotheism...fun, fun, fun. Wish me luck!

Things That Mattered Today

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction. ~E.F. Schumacker

Another class, another discussion. It’s so fascinating to be considered knowledgeable and, well, worthy of all these topics. Globalization, terrorism, sustainability, God, good versus evil, economics, beauty, perception, logistics, ethical behavior, responsibility, nuclear power struggles, the role of family, anti-Americanism, consumption, the American dream. And more, much more! There’s so much involved and implicit and understated and understood and then so much misunderstood and overstated and foggy and illogical. Each topic dredges up so many readings…old conversations and classroom discussions…snippets of TV headlines from six, seven, eight years ago and snippets of culture by now much changed…debate, of course. Of course debate! It’s exciting, invigorating. (Even if my 8am International Relations class makes me think wistfully of my bed and my Ethics class makes my eyelids droop sometimes.) This is stuff that matters.

You know what else matters? Stepping out of class at 9:40 to find a cool, sunny world has risen. The light rendering the ivy leaves translucent and making the dew-saturated cobweb glitter. The contrast in this particular scenario, with the red brick arch framing the green leaves and the sparkling web. That matters. The chilly air and the scent of fall in the air and the thick, soft warmth of my sweatshirt on my shoulders. The comforting solidity of the oaks against the sky, and the sun bright in my eyes. The laughter I hear down the path. This matters. And the way the person in front of me holds the door matters. And it matters that out of the four people at whom I smile and say “Good morning!” three respond in kind. And the sudden desire to write something—that matters, too. These things are simple, but these things are beautiful. That’s why they matter.

I think it's because today’s world is awfully complicated and kinda scary and generally unpleasant. “I don’t think today’s news could get any more depressing,” my friend David said after class this morning. And he’s right—it’s not much fun to watch the economy deflate, the Middle East plot ways to blow itself up, and politicians accuse each other of pointless “atrocities.” Learning how undemocratic our country’s elections are…yeah. Not fun. It’s a wonderful world, but it’s not a kind one…the news makes me feel panicky and frightens me. The thing about leaves and flowers and rain boots and smiley faces and warm feet is that even when the rest of the world is tangling itself up in knots, they stay simple. It gives me hope that as long as some things stay happy and good even in the midst of all the chaos, at least something will always be ok. And hope is a really critical thing to have today, I think. Hope and faith and curiosity.

So here’s to the sun shining and the wind snapping out the flag. Maybe life’s not all good, but, you know, it’s more than good enough to be worth it.

College Is Eating My Life

There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want.
-Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes

Before I left for college, I distinctly remember being told by several people how much more free time I was going to have then I was expecting.

I'm not sure now whether thse people were teasing me, genuinely trying to be helpful, or freshly escaped from mental institutions, but so far they've been dead wrong. Maybe it's an honors fellow thing (that's our house excuse for everything). Anyway, thus far my free time has been very close to zero; in fact, I've got two essays I could be writing right now.

And one of them's due tomorrow, so I think I'd better get to that. I just wanted to mention that I haven't forgotten about my blog, or my correspondence aspirations, or anything. And I'll post more about college life after said college life lets up a little. I promise!

Holes.

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. ~Charles M. Schulz

I hate holes. I mean, really hate them.

I like sets. I like ensembles. I like neat-and-tidy, everything-has-a-place. And, see, the thing about everything having its place isn’t just that you’ve got to have the place (which, judging from the organization shows, articles, magazines so prolific in today’s society, is a very common problem)—but also that you’ve got to have the things.

And normally, I do have the things. And the places. I’m pretty fastidious about having places for everything. Each new gift, each purchase—they don’t really feel like they’re mine until I’ve carved a special niche for them. Magazines go in the closet, unless it’s TIME, and then it goes beside Anna’s high chair. Extra buttons go in the old Motrin bottle in the back right corner of my top desk drawer, behind the pens and pencils. Mary Poppins: top bookshelf. Hero and the Crown: middle. Progressions: resting horizontally on the other books on the bottom shelf. There are always three quilts at the food of my bed; Bible and coaster within reach; poetry book and other imminent reading under the bed, which is made. I like the drawers all the way pushed in. The way things in my room stay neat gives me a feeling of peace, a feeling of power. Because I control my room, and if I can make it stay clean, this little square of the world that’s all my own, then I feel that much better about myself. I’m not joking about it being empowering. Plus, I sleep better in a tidy room. Life feels simpler and more manageable when you know that your tchotchkies are in their proper order and that the pictures on your desk are nicely spaced.

The thing I’m having difficulty with is not organizing my college stuff. I’ve enjoyed going shopping; enjoyed stocking and stacking and folding new towels into new Rubbermaid containers. I’m having a hard time, though, taking established citizens of Katherine’s room out of their places and into new territories. It leaves holes. Where my post-it notes are supposed to be in my desk—a hole. The right side of my nightside table—hole. Pictures—hole. Bookshelf—hole, hole, hole. Gaps everywhere. Only one quilt at the foot of my bed. No Mary and Music Bear. I need these things in my dorm room—but it makes me feel sick to think of the holes they’ll leave in my room. Places where something has always been, solid and material and comforting, and where now, something is not. It completely messes up the order of my life.

It reminds me more than I’d like of the ginormous, me-shaped hole I’ll be punching in my family this fall—charmingly manifested by an empty chair at the table between my brothers, a hole-filled room, and a total lack of teenage girl in the family.

I hate big holes.

And I hate little ones, too.