cleaning up hiroshima

The grey haze of the rainy morning puts a gentle hush over the room. The morning after. Its strange and quiet this morning. Digging through the emotional rubble trying to understand what happened, again, I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, but not surprised. I hate to say it, but I told you so. I told you so, I told you so, I told you so, a hundred times over. But you were determined, and I... I was an innocent bystander. Unable to comprehend, and frozen with shock, I am debilitated. Lost. Confused. Still. Still digging through the rubble trying to find what's left of myself, I find the broken pieces of what once was. Arguments, fights, screaming, divorce. I've been here before. Digging still further I find more and more of these broken pieces. My hands are bleeding from their sharp edges. The pain still burns. I'm still digging. Why am I still digging? Why can't I find it? Find what? I don't know, but I'll know when I find it. I've been here before. I've been here before. It's still raining. It's always raining. But I have to keep looking. If I don't keep looking, I'll never find it. Find what? That thing. That thing that I lost the last time. When I was here before. I lost it then, and I still haven't found it. Did the rain wash it away? Rain can't wash away something like that. Of course it can, don't be silly. Then is it really gone? I don't know. I just don't know. Then I have to keep looking. Stop looking, you'll never find it. How do you know? Because we are the same, and I've lost it too. But... Come on, it's raining.

slimy squishy squirmy things

I didn't forget, I've just been a little overwhelmed.


Blue Octopi in a dark sea.

Squids trying to be a damask.

breathing room

No, I didn't explode. I thought I might for a while, but this proved itself to be a false alarm. There was a small nuclear melt down though. I think it's resolved now. I've gone from 14 ideas back to one. And its "IT". Its emotionally charged, somewhat challenging, and powerful. Hm. Sounds familiar.

I'm going to knit guns. And pull them apart. Record it, and play it on a blanket that hangs on the wall like a screen. Now, there's more to it than that, but all those little details will get worked out as we go. But that's the basic idea.

The Octopi Prints are in their first stages of being done. I'll show them to you when they're finished, but in the mean time, here's a little surprise for you.

brain explosion

Oh, hey Thursday. When did you get here? 14 ideas for thesis. What am I going to do? 14!!!! Not all of them are good; not all of them are crap. I guess I'll see what everyone else has to say. In the mean time, I'm just going to keep knitting.

knit or sleep?

Woot! I finished something! The White Winter Tam is now off my list! Now it's off to finish something else! But I should consider sleep, as Senior Studio does begin at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Hm... I guess bed time wins out... this time! ::insert evil laugh here::

how knitting took over my life

Seeing as it is Grandparents Day, and this obsession is greatly due to one of my grandparents, it feels apt.

When I was about nine or so, my Great Grandmother Yolanda sat me down to teach me how to knit. She graciously handed me a long pair of size 8 needles (of which I will always cherish) and a decent size ball of yarn. With one needle tucked in my armpit, she slowly and patiently showed me how to form knit stitches. I'm sure they were very wonky, but I don't remember. I, being a perfectionist, have reused much of my early work. I do remember that at first, I didn't get it. I practiced all the time, and still my stitches were wonky. So I tucked the needles and the yarn in the back corner of my closet, and promptly forgot about it. Some several months went by, and, after being forced to clean out said closet, I found the needles and yarn, project still in mid row. But I couldn't remember what I was supposed to do. I decided that I would go to my school library and see what they had on the subject. I found the only two knitting books in my entire elementary school library, and took them home. I studied them like no other book. I had practically memorized them by the time I returned them, 2 renews later. So I ripped out the entire project that was on the needles, and slowly began casting on again, working each stitch slowly and perfectly. Suddenly, I got it. Like being hit by a train, I knew how to knit! It all made sense! And that's when all my trouble began. I knit all the time. I would finish my homework, and go knit. I would spend whole weekends just knitting away. I would ask for yarn for my birthday and for Christmas. I would knit during theater rehearsal, I started knitting in class. I knit my way through Honors Biology sophomore year. I had the highest average in the class. And now I'm here, knitting my senior thesis. Some people are born to do things. I was born to knit.

Thanks Grandma Yolanda! It's all your fault.

how knit 2 became knit squared

When I originally began thinking about knitting for my thesis, I thought I would just knit a quilt. I would experiment with different stitch patterns that I'd never used before, and have a memory blanket at the end of it. I thought I would perfect my skills. And then we had our first critique. The idea was presented that I could knit a room. Suggestions for pieces of furniture followed and the wheels in my head began turning. How could I knit a whole room? What could I cover in knitting? Could I cover the walls, a chair, a lamp, and a bookshelf of books in knitting? What would it look like? This has become my new mission.