in the midst of all the horrors that ensue from such wretched circumstances as a) staying alive and maintaining some level of sanity during a crippling nerve illness, b) working despite said illness in conditions that bear zero resemblance to the oohs and aahs state of the initial OMG THEY HIRED ME honeymooning period, and c) ducking from gigantic murderous german-speaking birds, i have completely neglected this blog.
my child, my blood, my intellectual excrement.
i left her on her own, writhing helplessly without any loving nourishment, and ignored her existence while pursuing a selfish, opiate-laden path of my own called "it's me first or the bunny gets it" (also known as the "next fucker to irk me dies" path).
what a wonderful mother i would make.
|i now realize the bird was merely trying to castrate me|
but that's the thing with constant, unchanging pain. it's hard to concentrate on anything else when it's always there. it won't make you prettier. it won't make you a better person. and it certainly won't go away if you just think positive. no. all it does is turn you into a saggy bitter old maid with a slightly unfocused gaze and a medical bill the size of manitoba.
of course, once you reach that point, that's the moment you go out and buy as much yarn as you and the postman can collectively carry. in all colors, in all qualities, from all continents and price ranges. because that's what makes you (and by you i mean me) happy, and maintaining that level of happy is rather crucial here these days.
|my precious precious happy|
but after thoroughly sniffing the hanks, petting the hanks and daydreaming about the hanks, i slap myself (with the hanks) and figure things probably could be worse. i'm sure things can always be worse. and everyone has their own private hell. it's just that some people face suffering with a sort of defeated, stoic, graceful halo that inspires others to appreciate what they still have.
me, i'm more of the kind to kick, scream and throw steaming turds at any and all instances whom i at the given time deem responsible for my current misery.
which is hardly inspiring at all.
anyway. somewhere in the midst of all this i made a pair of socks. they're pretty, and sparkly, and they made me and my feet happy.
incidentally, they're the first textured pair of socks i made with the toe-up 2-at-a-time method. i figured this twinkling beauty of a yarn deserves something more than just plain stockinette. and they fit like a dream too. perfect size, perfect shape.
now if only they'd deliver my damn wollmeises already.