Warm fuzzies of the week

     I really don't have much to talk about this week. Things seem to be going rather well at CNFH. Roomie P and Roomie C are able to at least play nice. We had some good friends over last night, and we all sat in the kitchen, having a few drinks and being silly. It was such a relief to see them acting like the friends they were when we all moved in together. I have been searching for a place to move later this summer with Roomie C. I've emailed a few landlords, and I hope something eventually pans out...
     I feel like life has entered something of a "holding pattern" lately. So I decided it was time to make something new happen. This has started me wanting to knit jewelry. Don't look at me in that tone of voice. It makes perfect sense. It all started when I wanted a string bracelet, but didn't want the same old "friendship bracelet" so I decided to take all the colors I wanted, and just made a variegated I-cord bracelet. I still need to get to the store to buy a clasp, but I'm happy with how it turned out. This sent me to my library. I pulled out my book of patterns for knitted borders. Yes! Several of them look like they'd make amazing necklaces. So now I'm making a lovely, lacy choker. I think I know who I'm giving it to when I'm done, since I don't wear chokers.

      There are several other patterns I can't wait to try making into necklaces. I found some I want to use that would look amazing with some beadwork. I think I need to get some different colors of crochet thread and perhaps some smaller DPNs. I keep starting new hobbies, and then I run out of time. I can't wait till I can get my own house someday. I've already decided I'm going to learn to spin and dye my own yarn. I also want to learn to weave and get better at sewing. My poor roommate has no clue what he agreed to when he said he wanted to live with me!

Knit till I find my Wit

     I don't know what to talk about today. Wendy is in the hospital again. She can't even tell me why, other than some symptoms. I'm going to assume it has to do with her lupus. I hate this disease. It may have brought us together in a way nothing else could, but it's robbing me of the time I want to spend with her. I can't talk to her on the phone when she's at one of her eleventy-seven doctor's office visits every month. With her in the hospital, I can't even chat with her online. I can't bring her home to visit, because travel aggravates flares. She can't go to furry events to meet all my wonderful furry friends, because large groups breed illnesses that will make her sick. I can't go to visit her, because I am poor and barely able to support myself as it is. Airfare and time off work are a bit much for me just yet.

     You may or may not know, but May is Lupus Awareness Month, and I promised I would wear purple every day this month. Only one or two people from work have asked about the purple bandanna I've been wearing everyday, and no one else. I feel like I'm failing at raising awareness, and failing my sister.

     I feel like I'm spiralling out of control. Like I've lost any sense of purpose in life. I'm doing a good job of not feeling the need to take care of everyone around me. I take time to think about myself every day. I do need more of a social life, but I need to figure out how to manage that while keeping my third-shift job that pays pretty decent money. I'm having hell trying to juggle friendships in such a way that I am not neglecting one friend just to prove that I value someone else. It hurts me to be torn in this way. I feel guilty for wanting to do anything on my weekends, because I'm certain to upset someone. And I never know who I'm going to offend with every decision I make.

     So I try to entertain myself. Keep my hands busy enough that my mind doesn't realize it isn't occupied. I have three projects in the works so far. My Rainbow Headband:

My Coral Kerchief:

And my Random Baby Blanket:

     I finished my Midsummer Night's Shawl and really need to convince someone to take a pic of me holding it up. It will look so much more awesome that way, rather than just spread out on the bed. Getting back to the knitting after even a short break is helping me to calm down and find my center. But at the same time, it's starting to feel like work and I never wanted that for my knitting. The head-coverings are still giving me pride of accomplishment, but when I needed to knit up a "washcloth" on short notice, something that needed about two hours of concentration took me two weeks!

    Like I said. I just don't know. I'm going to head back to my bed soon, prop up my feet, and get to work on my kerchief. If I can get the pattern to settle down and behave, I intend to make something similar for Hazy. But hers will probably be on larger needles, and might be even more lacy! At least that will give me something else to try and have done by the end of this month. I just wish I had a clue how much yardage I was using so I could enter these kerchiefs into my Knit-meter...  

What friends mean to me

     For a few months, I have wanted to write a blog post about friendship. I don't know where to start. There are so many amazing quotes I have found about friendship, ranging from funny to inspirational. I could list a few of those. I could talk about my friends, and what they have meant to me. I could rattle on about definitions and types of friendships. I'm going to try to focus on what it means to me when I call someone friend. Yes, this will be even more incoherent than usual. I quit trying too hard. It's more important that I get my thoughts out than anything else.
     I realize that people use the word "friend" rather freely. It can mean anything from more-than-acquaintance to a person who is as close as family. But if I refer to someone as a Friend, I am referring to the latter. Friends are my family-by-choice. These are the people I try to spend my time with. These are the people I share my deepest feelings with. A Friend is someone whose feelings are as important to me as my own. In college, I defined a friend as being like a hug: warm, comforting, something you can lean on.
     When I was younger, I used to bemoan the fact that I did not have a lot of friends. I wasn't one of the popular kids. Fortunately, I was not alone. And the friends I did have were more dearly valued for it. By not having dozens of people I called friend, I had the time to develop deeper, more meaningful relationships. As I grew to adulthood, I parted company with many of my childhood friends while making new ones. But the people that have been there through the changes in my life... They hold a special place in my heart. Those are the ones who I can reminisce with. They know my crazy moods and how to handle me.
     As I get older, I'm less concerned with having to find new friends. People will come in and out of my life for as long as they need to be there. Some touch that special place in my heart, and I know they will be here for a long time. These Friends are the ones that make me the person I am.
     When a Friend is having trouble, it's my instinct to try to help them. Often, it's just listening to their problems, but I enjoy being able to do anything to make their life more pleasant. I enjoy doing little things to make my Friends smile, from making a surprise Easter basket to making a pot of coffee. When I can, I like giving small knitted stuff to my friends, or take them out to dinner. I will defend my Friends, with everything I have, if they are being wronged. But I don't support blindly. If I know a Friend is wrong, I will tell them. I will try to do so in private if at all possible, but if necessary, I will call a friend out in whatever manner is needed. And I will defend a Friend whenever that is needed, also. Even if they are not around at the time. I don't let people tell un truths about my friends.
     I guess it comes down to me being the kind of friend I want my friends to be toward me: loyal, generous, considerate, honest...As I grow older and less dependent on my family-by-birth, I rely more on those who I have made my family-by-choice, and I strive to be as good, and fair, to them as I can be, because they are that important to me.
     I don't know. I've rattled on about this for about a week. I've lost any ability to be coherent. This is what you get from me when I spend too much time on something. It's the best I can do, the same as I'd give any friend.

Not neglecting to post

     Yes. I have been drinking tonight. I'll worry about fixing spelling and typing errors when I'm more coherent. I didn't make my Friday blog post like I wanted to. But I have an excuse! I have spent the last week wrestling with making words happen to express an idea that I have wanted to address for some time. But the words just don't want to cooperate. 

     So instead, I spent Friday hanging out with roomies C and J. It's been months since we just spent time together because we could. We had a nice dinner, then did our damnedest to drink a bottle of rum and a bottle of vodka. I guess we'll have to finish them either Saturday, or next week. Because the boys already went to bed at 5am!

     There was a furmeet today in Oakland. It was fun. There were a lot of people I didn't even know. But I finally got around to introducing myself to an fur I've been talking to on Twitter, so now he knows who is messaging him! I also got to give a brief description of Furry to the owner of The O. It made me feel old to somehow become a de facto spokesperson when out with other furries, but I know that my representation is one of the more un-sensational and is often repeated by others who see its positive reactions.

     I give up. It's 5:30 am and I'm drunk enough that my eyes are crossing and I think I'm about to pass out at the computer. I'll get a real post up eventually. I promise. And no more rum until I do!

Don't hide your scars

     This thought has been rolling around in my head for a week, ever since a conversation I had with a friend about her physical scars. She was talking about her internal debate over whether or not to cover them with tattoos. But the same thought can apply to emotional scars, as well. We all have them. Some people hide them, while others wear them proudly as a badge of honor.

     Think about it. Everything in your past made you who you are. A scar is a reminder that you survived something. There was a cut or wound so deep, so severe, that your body couldn't heal easily, and now you have a permanent reminder. Bad decisions lead to mistakes, the consequences of which can last a lifetime. But no matter what happens, every experience shapes your life.

     I have a scar on my forehead from the time I fell off a pair of platform shoes. It needed stitches. It was horrible when it happened. I was seven years old. But I learned that candy will still be there if I take my time. There is no need to rush for things that are not that important. I have a scar across my index finger that I got when slicing a bagel I was holding in my hand. I learned that kitchen knives are sharp. Sometimes I see these scars and remember the pain I felt, and see them ad victories. I didn't die from the massive blood loss. I have surgical scars. I survived extreme pain. Every mark left on your body is a reminder of something that happened. They are once upon a times that allow you to tell your stories.

     And then there are emotional scars. These are deeper and more painful, as well as harder for people to see. These are the failed relationships, the harsh words that were said, the hateful things that have been done to you. These are hearing your parents scream at each other when you are too young to understand that it's not your fault. These are the memories of a funeral for someone who died before you could say good-bye. These are the friendships shattered by anger-fueled words uttered without thought.

     Your scars are the lasting pieces of the things that made you who you are today. You can hide them, cover them up, or have surgery to eliminate them. But you can't escape from your past. If you could undo your mistakes, would you still learn from them? Think of the many ways that scars allow you to connect to another human being. I remember asking a former lover where he got each scar I found on his body. It was an amazing way to get to know the little moments in a person's past, allowing them to remember things they don't often think about.
     I know I keep repeating about how your scars are what made you. But the thought just won't settle down in my mind. Every mark on my body, every personality quirk I've developed as reaction to something, these are who I am. If I am to love myself, I need to love all of me, not just the "pretty" parts. I'm trying. Sometimes it's hard, because sometimes the scars still ache. But that's why I write this.
     I hope my friend decides not to cover her scars. I know why they are there. They show the strength she has to survive what put them there. They are part of what make her a beautiful person. And so do mine. So do yours.

     Today's knitting update: I haven't been doing much. I've gotten some work done on P's Tarot Bag. I worked perhaps ten rows on the Random Baby Blanket. Stress at home has kept me from wanting to play with yarn. I'm afraid I'll take my aggression out on projects that are supposed to be made with love. I don't want to talk about that right now.