Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
And also I'm sad because I bound off BFF's birthday scarf, and all that is left to do is weave in the ends and find a way to block it, and I finished the swatch for my Summertime Tunic, so I have nothing to knit until that blocks.
It is a sad day when there is nothing to knit.
My gauge was a little off on my swatch. It was 24 stitches x 36 rounds per 4 in., and it's supposed to by 22 x 30. I don't think the rounds really matter that much though, because the pattern calls for you to knit for a certain number of inches, not a certain number of rounds. And I'm hoping the stitches will even themselves out with some good, old-fashioned blocking. I'm really hoping.
Grrr.... got to go write that damn story.
Song of the Day:
"I'll just write this down in hopes that you'll understand. I will no longer be disciplined by the frustrations of an insecure man." -Maria Mena, "Our Battles"
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The fact that I'm planning on spending over a hundred thousand dollars to learn how to write better because writing is my passion, and the fact that I am one of the three editors-in-chief of my high school's literary magazine, and yet, now that my submission for the lit mag is due in two days, not only have I not even thought about starting it, but I have no idea what to write about.
This is supposed to be what I do. I am supposed to be a writer with some knitting and balloon creations thrown in. And yet...
Maybe it's due to the fact that I spent the better part of the past three months forming an advertisement campaign to convince other people to submit to the lit that I forgot that I'm supposed to submit as well. Or maybe it's that I've gotten so caught up in scarves and summertime tunics that I've lost all interest in anything else for a minute. But I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Little Buddy is in the next room over plucking on a damn guitar that has 35 year old damn strings that need to be damn tuned, and every time I yell at him to stop he gets LOUDER!
No. I'm sure it's not that.
Speaking of gee-tars, Boyfriend keeps talking about getting one and taking lessons, to which I can only say, "Hell-a yes!" I have such a thing for boys with guitars. Oh, and it's good to learn an instrument because it helps you improve in other areas of your life. Or at least that's what the letter the superintendent of our school sent out today said. That, and you're not supposed to watch more than two hours of non-educational television a day.
Yup. Break out the Bill Nye.
Also, I feel as though having a guitar-playing boyfriend will help to complete my transformation into hippie-dom. Because, honestly, I think I would have made a good hippie if I was born a few dozen years earlier. I like peace, not a big fan of war, I'm becoming increasingly interested in making my own clothes, and I believe that if my curls were manageable, they'd be boring, which has to fall into the hippie philosophy somewhere.
I'm not so hopped up about the idea of drugs, and free love, and not showering, and communes. But other than that I could totally be a hippie.
Oh, and hemp. I'm not a fan of hemp.
Maybe the word I'm looking for is Democrat. But I'm too much of a hippie to believe in labels.
Song of the Day:
"And I never liked your hair, or those people that you lie with, but I'm not satisfied until I hold you tight." - The Killers, "Leave Your Bourbon on the Shelf"
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I got in... and their going to give me an annual $16,000 scholarship to go there. Which is great, except that I'd rather go to Dream School, who hasn't given me anything.
Dream School has such a better writing program than Second Choice does. If I go there, I know that I'll have a better shot at getting a job in a publishing company and then eventually publishing a book. But I'll have to take out thousands and thousands of dollars worth of loans just to pay for it, when I can take out less and go to Second Choice.
I don't know what to do. It seems crazy to want to pay so much more money than I have to, but at the same time, I've always wanted to go to Dream School.
I'll never be able to afford yarn again. Even Simply Soft with a coupon, as is my style.
Speaking of which, in recent knitting endeavors, I have come to realize how tedious stockinette is. I started knitting a scarf for BFF's birthday not that long ago, and I did it all in stockinette so that I could make sure it would be done for her birthday, which is only in a few weeks. And that's super and everything, and it's going quickly, but it's so boring. Really. I am a cable girl, and without any cables, I am just bored.
It is pretty though. Dull as it is, there's something to be said for the purity of stockinette.
And can I just say, that these pictures were not easy to procure? My sweet little purple Kodak was being so moody and tempermental. I don't know what has gotten into her.
And also the scarf is so very rolly. Can you even block acrylic?
Hmm... I just did the math, and realized that over 4 years, I will save $64,000 by going to Second Choice. That's a lot of yarn. And a car. And a wedding.
Or think of all the puppies I could get with that kind of money. Lots!
Song of the Day:
"But we sure had a good time when we started way back when. Morning walks and bedroom talks were how I loved you then." -Jim Croce, "Photographs and Memories"
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
That's right! Five. Maybe. If that. And two of them were returning things. I guess people just aren't devoted enough to party planning to risk their lives driving in a not-even-that-bad-anymore-the-roads-are-mostly-cleaned-up snow storm. Go figure.
I did get to stock Easter stuff, though. And I will say this - there is a lot of crap you can buy to make your Easter Egg Hunt super special. For instance, a can of white spray paint that they jack up the price on because they call it "Easter Egg Hunt Starting Line Paint." Or something to that idiotic effect.
But at any rate, that means spring is coming soon, and I am super glad. How in love am I with this? And it's a free pattern, which just about rocks my socks right off my feet. Speaking of which, I keep meaning to try to make socks. I just have too many projects going right now. Scarves take up a crap load of time!!!!! I keep saying I'm not going to make anymore, and then I do. Inevitably. Damn my lack of self-restraint.
Song of the Day:
"Now I've drunk a lot of wine and Im feeling fine, got to race some cat to bed. Oh is there concrete all around, or is it in my head." - Mott the Hoople, "All the Young Dudes"
Monday, January 14, 2008
Plus I missed my scarf.
We found out last night that there was no school today when Shelly, Pharmacy Pete and I were watching Jon and Kate Plus Eight on TLC (I get exhausted just watching that show. God bless them for their patience), and Shelly flipped over to our local public access station, where they had posted a notice about it.
Even though I have to go into the party store later on (in order to serve the zero people who are going to come in for all their party and balloon needs. Oh, and also to make sure that the candy department doesn't fall into a state of total and complete disarray, as it is apt to do when I, as the candy department specialist, am not around.), I kind of wanted to start working on writing something. Anything. An outline for a new book, or a story for my school's lit mag, anything. I'm jonesing for some good fiction. But instead, I have a crap load of other stuff to get done. Like finish BFF's scarf for her birthday, which is in the beginning of February, and it's already the middle of January (which, oh by the way, how did that happen?). Or spend some quality time with College Board searching for scholarships. Or read the two Ayn Rand books that Shelly got me that, if I read them and write essays about them, I could win some pretty decent scholarships. The only problem is that, together, they're almost two thousand pages long, and the print is so small that it's almost impossible to read. But if it means I can afford Dream College, then it's worth it. Hopefully.
I'm probably just going to end up watching Clark and Michael until work anyway. I'm very productive.
Song of the Day:
"If you were the winter, I know I'd be the snow, just as long as you were with me, let the cold winds blow." - Barry Louis Polisar, "All I Want is You"
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Please hold your applause. I am not done and it is distracting.
I went into work yesterday, and my manager said, "Have I got a job for you!" To which I was all, "Super!" Because nothing good ever comes from that statement. In fact, it usually involves me climbing a ladder, or doing something equally capable of resulting in injury to my clumsy self.
But all she did was hand me a clipboard with a plan-o-gram (a diagram showing exactly which products go exactly where in a five foot section of shelves, for all of you minions who are not candy department specialists. Though I am told by Shelly that all retail stores use plan-o-grams. Silly Shelly. How does she not know that I, as the lone candy department specialist at my beloved balloon store, am the only one in the world capable of understanding and utilizing a plan-o-gram?), and told me to fix the candy section, as it was in complete disarray.
And, in fact, the six five-foot sections of candy were all disasters. There was candy there that did not belong there, candy that was supposed to be there wasn't, it was all just messy.
I got the impression that she thought that the job was going to be big and long and difficult by the way she kept looking at me nervously as she told me what I was supposed to be doing, as though I was going to yell at her for suggesting that I perform such a ridiculous and impossible task. But it wasn't that bad at all. I cleaned and organized the whole thing, found the missing candy, and found homes for the extra candy, while all the while I was making balloons and ringing up customers while our credit card satellites were down, making it so that it took twice as long to ring up customers paying with cards.
Basically, it wasn't a big deal. At least not for a candy department specialist like myself.
But my manager was all like, "Susan, this looks so neat. You did a really good job today." Then she told me that candy was going to be my department from now on, which means that, on top of the cashiering and balloon-making and stocking and general cleaning that I was already doing, it's my responsibility to make sure that the candy stays clean and organized.
I'm pretty sure that this means I make an extra 25 cents an hour, but, more importantly, it means that I get to attach a flag to my name tag that says "DEPARTMENT SPECIALIST."
It made my day.
And my weekend.
And most likely all of next week.
In other recent news, Clark and Michael is my new favorite thing. I love Michael Cera. He's so subtly funny that he's ten times more hilarious than he would be if he was loud.
Song of the day:
"Am I alive or thoughts that drift away? Does summer come for everyone? Can humans do as prophets say?" - Primitive Radio Gods, "Standing Outside a Broken Phonebooth with Money in my Hand"
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I told Shelly, and she said, "Well didn't you go ice skating in gym yesterday?"
And it's true I did go ice skating in gym yesterday. Sort of.
The city skating rink (just one of many three things to do here) is right behind the high school, so we all signed our little permission slips, and made the tredge over during gym class.
Turns out, though, I can't skate. And I don't know why I'm surprised that I can't skate. Granted, I took a few years of skating lessons, but that was a long time ago, and I spent most of those lessons crying about how I didn't want to do it. Plus I had a very mean teacher who yelled a lot, despite the fact that I had assumed right off the bat that she must be nice because she had the same first name as my grandma on Pharmacy Pete's side.
Last year, I went ice skating with Boyfriend and his family on an outdoor skating pond (not located in our silly little city, but a couple dozen miles north in a not so silly city). I spent of the time on my butt, before I finally told Boyfriend to go skate with his brother, and I would go sit with his mom. But what I learned was that, without Boyfriend holding onto my hand, I couldn't even stand up at all, nevermind avoid falling in my feeble attempts to remove myself from the ice. Plus, what I didn't know was that skating traffic only goes in one direction when I started going the opposite way because I had just passed the exit, so I was skating against an extremely large group of people, as this was a crowded day for this particular skating pond.
Then I accidently grabbed on to some random woman so that I wouldn't fall. Lucky for me, and for her, she knew what she was doing, and didn't mind that I had completely just grabbed onto her arm like I'd known her for years. To this day, she is still one of my heroes, next to Jesus and Pat Benatar and Eric Clapton of course, for being so nice to me, when she easily could have shaken me off and humilated me beyond how I had already humiliated myself.
So, long story short, I spent the whole gym class pulling myself around the rink with the railing on the side. Which is why me shoulders hurt. Which seems unfair when I stop to consider that there was this girl in my class who kept saying "This is my first time ice skating ever!" while all the while she was skating laps around me, and didn't fall once.
I didn't fall either, though, which is an improvement. And by the end, I could even take one hand off of the rail. My gym teacher was not nearly as impressed by this as I was.
Song of the day:
"You know you're already my obsession. Stop using sex as a weapon." -Pat Benatar, "Sex as a Weapon"
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
On my 13th or 14th birthday, my grandparents (on Pharmacy Pete's side) gave me a teach-youself-to-knit kit. With a little help from Shelly and my grandma on her side of the family, I learned the basic cast on, knit, purl, and bind off. I then proceeded to lose all interest in the craft until a few months ago, which, for the record, was years later.
This is the Alexi scarf from Berroco. I made it with Caron Simply Soft, which is only acrylic, but I love it with all of my heart because it is so soft, and so pretty, and so in my inflating-balloons-for-a-career budget. I don't have a LYS, mostly because getting to the one closest to me would require driving on the highway, which I'm not about to do. So, I rely heavily on Michael's and A.C. Moore, especially when they put 40% off coupons in the paper.
Between my knitting and my coupons, I could swear I'm an 80 year old trapped in a high schooler's body. Which, when you think about it, is a little gross, but if I was 80, that's just the kind of situation I would like to be in.
Anyway, upon seeing my lovely, soft, pink scarf, Shelly went out to A.C. Moore and picked up some more Simply Soft for this lovely gem....
This is the Ticuna scarf from Berroco.
Shelly doesn't want her face to appear in this blog. It's not like it's gross and disfigured or anything, she just hates pictures.
And then I was bored with scarves. I saw a girl come into my balloon-filled workplace wearing the cutest hat, that I loved very much. I didn't get to ask her where she got it from, though, as she was not super friendly (how can you not be happy in a party store? Where I am working and therefore providing you with astounding customer service????). I couldn't find it in any of the stupid stores in the stupid mall of this stupid city, so I found a pattern for the closest thing I could find, which I might love even more than the original.
Boyfriend's sister liked it so much that I made her one too, only in cream. It's just Lion's Brand Wool, and it takes less than a skein and about two days plus blocking time to make it.Note the random lines of stockinette running through what is supposed to be seed stitch. But, in all fairness, it was my first time knitting on a round, and I wasn't even using dp's like I was supposed to. Boyfriend gave me the Boye set of circular needles that has every size imaginable for my birthday, and I didn't want to go out and spend the money on something I already had that would do the job exactly the same way. However, that resulted in the holes in the top that had to be sewn up after blocking. Good job Susan. Top notch.
Boyfriend's really good at gifts like that. For instance, this Christmas? Panini maker.
And also, that stud-muffin of a teddy bear is my buddy Marshmallow. As he is a boy bear, he doesn't appreciate me using him as a model for my girl hat. He agreed, however, because he wants to spread the word that he is very upset that his polar bear relatives are dying because the polar ice caps are melting. His relatives have no where to sit and stop swimming, so they drown. On that note, please recycle and stop buying big boats of cars. Marshmallow will thank you for it.
Next up is a hat for my grandfather, a scarf for my BFF's birthday, a scarf for my grandmother, a hat for my other grandmother, maybe that cute new clutch from Knitty, yadda yadda yadda...
And maybe I should think about improving my photography skills. But, at this point, I really do not need another interest. A girl can only have so many before she begins to neglect her prior commitments like, oh you know, school... Boyfriend... sleeping. Nothing too important though.Song of the day:
"I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs. I'm tossing up punchlines that were never there. Over my shoulder a piano falls, crashing to the ground." -R.E.M., "The Great Beyond"
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
I am not a stripper. I promise. And I don't expect that someone important will read this blog and decide, "Oh, that's it! Get her in here and get her published." In fact, Diablo Cody is the only person that I've ever heard of that happening to. But regardless, I figured that it can't be a bad idea to have this mode of expression, where I can practice writing for an audience.
Here's the deal-i-o... writing is my passion. Knitting is my interest. One of the many. I go to high school, I get good grades, I bide my time until graduation. I've been accepted into one of the best writing colleges in my area (which is filled with good schools to begin with) for creative writing. Which is super.... too bad I need to find the money. Anyone who would like to pay to send me to college is more than welcome to!
No takers? Hmm... I'm shocked.
I live with my parents, Pharmacy Pete and Shelly, and my little brother, who I most commonly refer to as "Little Buddy." I have a boyfriend, who will hereby be called "Boyfriend," who I love very much.
Blah blah blah... all that stuff.
I also blow up balloons and assist customers, a.k.a. "party guests," in purchasing party supplies.
When I'm not working, I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I'm knitting, on account of the methodical movements of knitting give me the opportunity to think of new ideas to write. And also cables really impress people. Like, more than they should.
And I always have a song stuck in my head. Always. Usually all it takes is someone saying one word to me, and I launch into a song that somehow incorporates that word. Today the song is from Juno, by the Moldy Peaches, called "Anyone Else But You." It's a Juno kind of day!
I know. You are all marveling at my amazingness. Please, try to contain yourselves.
Song of the day:
"Here is the church and here is the steeple. We sure are cute for two ugly people." - Moldy Peaches, "Anyone Else But You