The Languishing WIPs of My Life
Is it just me?
Or does everyone have ten projects they are working on at once?
Here is my theory.
If you begin to immensely dislike the color, the mundane~ness, the intricacy of pattern, you should stop.
Really, throw tension caution to the wind. Throw out the idea that if you come back to it, you will never remember where you are, what you are doing. Throw out the idea that if you stop now, it will never get done.
Why hate something that is supposed to be joyfilled?
Fun.
It then becomes work.
Tedious
Mundane
B o r i n g Round and round you go, and it never seems to end~ Such is the case with The Poncho. Languishing on the back of the sofa, waiting ever so patiently, quiet, uncondemning, yet undone.
Guilt.
And there is always a new hurry date approaching. Birthdays/Christmas/Graduations/Secret Pals/heeps and bounds of good intentions for creative, thoughtful, one of a kind gifts waiting to be birthed, in stacks of untouched yarn, colorful and inviting.
What of the equipment?
Where is that 6.5mm 24 inch circular?
Did I use it for the shawl I started? O the cringe of slipping it on the scrap yarn, for another day. Feels so much like failure. I know I bought a new set of holders, where are they? Used all used, holding, as is their job, unavailable for more unfinished stitches.
And of course the internet is beckoning.
Curling finger calling.
New blogs to explore.
Yarn sites with Free Pattern Buttons
Forums of knit talk.
Show me show me show me. I want to see. I want to see what you did, hear how you did it, learn so that I too can do it....someday.
And the stack of WIPs grows. Languishes.
I actually organized, somewhat my stash this weekend. At least took it out of bags. Touched every skein, dreamed, imagined excited faces of those future giftees.
I have yet to create my Binder. The knit book of patterns I've gathered. Organized place for ideas that I've combed through and chosen to someday do. I always try to make sure that the web address is copy pasted somewhere on the printout. Just to be sure I can go back and bring it up on my screen. Something about looking at a complete project makes the way a bit easier, I think.
And I have other creative knit ideas.
Cards I want to make cards, the coolest, best, must have knitting cards.
I have ideas, right left and center. Gaggles of things to do.
Overwelming?
No I say not.
Three years ago, when walking through my local Longs Drug store, I tripped down the notions aisle, and my eyes saw the piles of yarn, needles, and I remembered.
Making a scarf in highschool.
My Grandmother quietly sitting in her livingroom, the fishtank pump whirring, showing me The Knit. Patient lefty she was. I was seven.
My Mother's needles clickclickclicking. Afgans of colorburst orange/brown/seventies.
I bought started/and tucked away in frustration because I had not the talent, nor time, nor desire, and then I realized that all of my life I had done the same. I always have had a project tucked away, whereever I was. Here a baby blanket, another scarf. I realized that I am not complete unless I have an unfinished project in my midst. It could take years to finish, but I always know it is there. A touchstone to my past, my kin. Me.
It is Who I am. Unfinished, learning more about me everyday.
Today this day,
the guilt of unfinished projects does not weigh me down.
Today it frees.
Today I realize it is part of the process. A necessary part for me.
I also realize that,
I can reason away almost anything if I talk enough.
Or does everyone have ten projects they are working on at once?
Here is my theory.
If you begin to immensely dislike the color, the mundane~ness, the intricacy of pattern, you should stop.
Really, throw tension caution to the wind. Throw out the idea that if you come back to it, you will never remember where you are, what you are doing. Throw out the idea that if you stop now, it will never get done.
Why hate something that is supposed to be joyfilled?
Fun.
It then becomes work.
Tedious
Mundane
B o r i n g Round and round you go, and it never seems to end~ Such is the case with The Poncho. Languishing on the back of the sofa, waiting ever so patiently, quiet, uncondemning, yet undone.
Guilt.
And there is always a new hurry date approaching. Birthdays/Christmas/Graduations/Secret Pals/heeps and bounds of good intentions for creative, thoughtful, one of a kind gifts waiting to be birthed, in stacks of untouched yarn, colorful and inviting.
What of the equipment?
Where is that 6.5mm 24 inch circular?
Did I use it for the shawl I started? O the cringe of slipping it on the scrap yarn, for another day. Feels so much like failure. I know I bought a new set of holders, where are they? Used all used, holding, as is their job, unavailable for more unfinished stitches.
And of course the internet is beckoning.
Curling finger calling.
New blogs to explore.
Yarn sites with Free Pattern Buttons
Forums of knit talk.
Show me show me show me. I want to see. I want to see what you did, hear how you did it, learn so that I too can do it....someday.
And the stack of WIPs grows. Languishes.
I actually organized, somewhat my stash this weekend. At least took it out of bags. Touched every skein, dreamed, imagined excited faces of those future giftees.
I have yet to create my Binder. The knit book of patterns I've gathered. Organized place for ideas that I've combed through and chosen to someday do. I always try to make sure that the web address is copy pasted somewhere on the printout. Just to be sure I can go back and bring it up on my screen. Something about looking at a complete project makes the way a bit easier, I think.
And I have other creative knit ideas.
Cards I want to make cards, the coolest, best, must have knitting cards.
I have ideas, right left and center. Gaggles of things to do.
Overwelming?
No I say not.
Three years ago, when walking through my local Longs Drug store, I tripped down the notions aisle, and my eyes saw the piles of yarn, needles, and I remembered.
Making a scarf in highschool.
My Grandmother quietly sitting in her livingroom, the fishtank pump whirring, showing me The Knit. Patient lefty she was. I was seven.
My Mother's needles clickclickclicking. Afgans of colorburst orange/brown/seventies.
I bought started/and tucked away in frustration because I had not the talent, nor time, nor desire, and then I realized that all of my life I had done the same. I always have had a project tucked away, whereever I was. Here a baby blanket, another scarf. I realized that I am not complete unless I have an unfinished project in my midst. It could take years to finish, but I always know it is there. A touchstone to my past, my kin. Me.
It is Who I am. Unfinished, learning more about me everyday.
Today this day,
the guilt of unfinished projects does not weigh me down.
Today it frees.
Today I realize it is part of the process. A necessary part for me.
I also realize that,
I can reason away almost anything if I talk enough.
posted by Josephine Bohen at 9:27 AM
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