I just realized that I wanted to do the NaBloPoMo this month. So I guess that requires a post for the very first day of the new month, ne? It would sorta suck to blow it all the first day. =P
Today was good, until it wasn't. And then it really, really wasn't. I am stuck like a thing that is stuck. I guess that's why I've been so gung-ho about finishing the Shawl of Doom today (not quite, though I do have 8 out of the 12 end points finished) - I just want to finish something. Feel like I actually CAN accomplish something, that I'm not completely blocked, even if it's just something silly and unimportant. I sorta feel like this is a metaphor for my life:
This damn thing has taken me over three years. It is not even the slightest bit perfect, and it has been a struggle from the second I cast it on. I messed up practically on the first row. People, the first row only had like...3 or 4 stitches. How can someone mess THAT up? *raises hand* That would be me. There has been dropped stitches, and too many stitches, and then not enough. I've had to pull back and reknit and finally just ignore, all the while thinking, "Man, wouldn't it be nice to sail through a few rows without the slightest mistake?" And then bah, the numbers are wrong...yet again. Three years, you'd think that I'd get at least better at it, and nope. I'm pretty much the same blundering soul as when I started. And then, last night, the main body was finally. freaking. done. I just sailed through the end points today. But, in a moment of my usual sudden burst of cautiousness, I decided to brave the daunting number of stitches on my needle and actually COUNT them, just to make sure that I had the right number. And you know what? Instead of 300, I had 299. Now, I know that it could've been worse (even then, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I KEEP MANAGING TO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT NUMBER. Is it really me? Am I totally that stupid EVERY SINGLE TIME?) but it still had me wanting to throw the whole thing across the room, propelled by an angry "SON OF A BITCH!" I contemplated, right then and there, just ripping the whole thing out, winding up the yarn, and hiding it, pretending "Shawl? What shawl? I have no idea what you're talking about." Instead, I finished the point I was working on, started in the next, and did what I've done through out the whole thing: surreptiously add that missing stitch back. They'll never know.
There have been so many things that I've given up on. So many people, so many situations, so many dreams, and so many wishes. I've given up on my family, on my friends, on my co-workers, and mostly, on myself. I cannot, will not, give up on this damn shawl. It is only knitting, I have to keep telling myself, and no lives are at stake. It is not a life or death matter. And, no matter how much that one measly, missing stitch made me want to, it should not drive me to throw myself upon my knitting needles, hoping for a fatal wound. It'll get finished. Probably tomorrow. And I will wash it, and block it, and make it all nice and even, and try to hide as many mistakes as I can. Because even while it's one of the most imperfect things I've ever made, it is still soft and warm, and damn it...it's one more thing that I've managed to finish.