According to my Ravelry account, I started making a pair of Urban Necessity Mitts for my dad on Sept. 19, 2008. Ever since that fateful day when I thought it was a fantastic idea to work on them in class (it wasn't), every attempt to finally finish them has ended in more mistakes, swearing, frustration, stupid mistakes, tears and, occasionally, blood.
When I packed in preparation to visit my parents, I took the mitts along, fully intending to finish them in time for Giftmas. But I somehow left the pattern at home. It's available online, so it's not a deal-breaker.
Tonight, I will attempt (again), the previously insurmountable feat: conquering once and for all The Mitts That Would Not Die. All that's left is the mittencap on the second one. I've gotta do it. I've gotta show these mitts who's boss so I can finally move on to a different project. And I have to finish them now, because who the hell wears mittens in the summertime??
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Mitts That Would Not Die
Monday, June 20, 2011
Bad Knitter
Well. The title pretty much sums it up. There has been very little knitting because -- I'm ashamed to say -- I'm lazy and uninspired.
After the unfinished glittens languished for two years, I finally fixed the (stupid) mistake in January and completed the first one. Half-way through the second, I realized I was making the wrong increases -- ones that left noticeable holes. Down went the glittens again. Almost three years on a project is pretty damn pathetic. My dad probably doesn't expect to ever receive them -- and can I blame him?
I've always been a sporadic knitter. My fiber-frenzies usually reflect whatever is going on in my life. The times I am most secure and confident are the most productive. Though there have been a lot of really positive changes lately, I've come to realize that these don't necessarily add up to "perfect" ... at least not immediately. I've shrugged off a dead-end relationship, celebrated one year with an amazing guy, got into the university of my dreams -- but while I felt sure of my goals last year, things are now nebulous.
Knitting has always been a comfort, especially in times like these, when one of the few things I could control were the stitches on my needles, when the only things going according to plan was the pattern. Knitting has taught me this important lesson of controlling what we can and not waging a Sisyphean battle against what we cannot. I've also learned a good deal about myself, especially from this recent lapse: when problems arise, I've always taken a certain amount of pleasure in solving them. I'm like my dad that way; we both want to puzzle over it until it's fixed. Maybe I've become a bit weary in that department. But people problems are different than, say, knitting ones. If I don't start fixing my problems now, they'll pile up and suffocate me. There's nothing more depressing than looking around yourself and seeing unfinished projects and failed attempts -- and that goes way beyond just knitting.
Many say that real life experience is what counts -- and that's true in many ways -- yet since recorded time, and most likely long before, humans have played games and told stories: allegories for life. Knitting is one of those safe arenas, with the added benefit of finished products. I've admitted to myself that I have issues with following through. The glittens are a good place to start.