Hope in my Hands

Image by Shepard Fairey.

It seems to me that today contains multitudes (to misquote the great American poet, Walt Whitman).

Today marks History in different ways.

To some, it is about George W. Bush leaving office after what I would politely describe as a shambolic, histrionic and incompetent presidency.

To some, it is about the first African-American man becoming president.

To some, it is about the advent of the Anti-Christ, and if you think I am joking, try googling "obama + antichrist" (I'm not going to honour any of the nutjobs with a link). It is a mixture of bittersweet emotions, joy and bemusement.

To me, personally, today is all about Hope. I once said that the worst feeling in the world is hopelessness. I don't know what the future will bring but today I am holding hope in my hands. It feels damn good.

When In Doubt, Knit.

It snowed this afternoon and we are said to get heavy snowfall tomorrow. I have been curled up inside finishing my first project in 2009 and also doing a stash-busting exercise with plenty of colours. Colours warm my soul - especially with snow outside. The first finished project in 2009 is this little cardigan which I've dubbed Presto Chango Monsta (literally "Quick Change Monster"). I have a nephew due in March and I thought he might like to snuggle up in a soft little top.

The Presto Chango pattern was an utter delight whilst my chosen yarn, Washed Haze, was splitty and showed up every tiny flaw (plus I'll never be a fan of cotton or cotton-blends). I chose to embroider a little monster rather than knit a lacy front.

The end result is rather nice even if my freehand embroidery is wonky.

I suspect that Presto Chango will become my go-to pattern for baby gifts. It's very easy to customise and is a joy to knit. I just need to find a less irritating yarn (still washable and still soft).

My stash-busting project is this shawl. I began it whilst watching In Bruges and it has grown enormously since then. It's a bog-standard triangular shawl (I have posted brief pattern notes on the Ravelry project page) knitted in Wendy Fusion with an edging done in Rowan Kidsilk Haze. It makes me smile, it's easy TV knitting and it uses up all those stray balls of wool I have lying about.

A non-knitting observation, finally.

I do not have many kind words to say about Facebook and privacy settings. However, I just found out that you can actually block specific people from finding you on Facebook (let alone try to friend you or view photos posted of you). I have now blocked my old stalker* from viewing anything related to me which gives me a nice, fuzzy feeling. Thank you, Facebook. It's a nice feature.

(* stalker in the "oh god, now the police is involved, I have to hand over evidence and I cannot sleep in my own home" sense, alas.)

PS. Our Christmas tree has been recycled and its removal from our home now means I have free access to my yarn stash again, oh happy days.

A Reply Among Many

Rhiannon replied to my question why she reads. I really like her reply and she was very gracious in allowing me to reproduce it here:

I read because I can. (And let's be honest, it's one of the only things I'm good at. I'm a really good reader. I read at least 600 words per minute, and have impressive retention skills for what I have read. It seldom takes me more than a day to finish a novel.)

I read because I enjoy it. (I do. I like books. I like holding them, touching them, ogling their covers, learning about the characters, solving the mysteries, falling in love when the characters do, being devastated when they are, laughing at the good bits, crying at the sad bits. I like what reading tells me about myself and about other arounds me. I like that I can read serious academic works and the most trivial mysteries and comic books and enjoy all of them.)

I read because it's compulsive. (It really is. I'll read the ingredients on a cereal box if nothing else is around. I have to be careful when I read comics because it's very easy for me to forget about the pictures and focus just on the text.)

I read because I get paid to. (I love my job I love my job I love my job.)

I read because I makes me happy. (When I was a child, one of the most effective punishments was for my parents to take away my books.)

I read because I get lost in what I'm doing. (There are numerous stories about me getting lost on the way home from school because I was too busy reading to watch where I was going. I never actually got lost--we lived too close--but I did tend to dawdle.)

Thank you to all who took the opportunity to answer my question (particularly as I was in a curmudgeonly mood).

Why Do You Read?

Why do you read? It is such a fundamental question. I ran into it the other day when I was discussing the Western canon in an internet setting (I know, I should avoid those). As always the answers intrigued me more than the actual question. One answer will invariably emerge: "The point of reading is enjoyment". And this answer never fails to baffle me for a number of reasons - mostly because the idea of "enjoyment" is so problematic. What does "enjoyment" mean? Does it correspond to Roland Barthes's plaisir/readerly texts where the reader (passively) consumes a product and derives pleasure from the act of consumption? Let us look at the sentence "the point of reading is enjoyment". Looking at it objectively, it follows that the act of reading is not about the actual act of reading itself but rather about the degree of enjoyment derived from the act. The focal point is not the book being read but the reader him/herself sitting in a chair. Should the act of reading actually be described as an exercise in narcissism?

This is my main problem: every time I read or hear about how "the point of reading is enjoyment", I end up thinking of a narcissistic little twerp who only likes books where you can identify with the protagonist, consumes them like they'd consume shoes, music or any other product and who would never read anything published before they were born (except if there's a connected TV series or a film out gathering a fair amount of publicity). I have issues, clearly.

So, why do you read?

The Balance Shall Tip in the Favour of Culture

Being of a fairly decadent, yet thrifty, disposition, we are going on a short holiday in March. Thrifty? We are going to Krakow in southern Poland - a city which is supposedly gorgeous, very Old Europe and still affordable. Decadent? We are going to stay in an art deco hotel for the duration of our stay. Don't say we don't know how to indulge ourselves whilst remaining within budget. As we are only going to be in Krakow for a very short time, I don't expect we'll get around to seeing all that many sights. We are both slightly intrigued by the famous Wieliczka salt mines but they will probably have to wait for another holiday. I'm mainly looking forward to seeing a lot of beautiful Central European architecture (I'm thinking Krakow will be as picturesque as Prague but significantly less spoiled by fast-food chains) and eating pierogi.

Speaking of Old Europe and beautiful buildings, we watched In Bruges last night. At first I struggled a bit with the strong Irish accents, but when my ear finally tuned in, I relished a dark, funny and very smart film. I didn't even mind Colin Farrell all that much which is saying something.

On needles? I ripped back my delicate lace shawl, have begun a lovely colourful shawl and have almost finished a little cardigan for my nephew-due-in-March. I am also working on my jumper and am getting close to a point where I have to make design decisions. O-er!

It Explains A Lot

Thanks, Palnatoke:

"Every June, Scotland is towed 1000 miles south so it can have a summer. Only 10% of people in Scotland know this."

And here's visual proof.

PS. I was reminded by Stuart that I haven't mentioned this piece by Andrew O'Hagan. I read it this weekend and I was disgusted by its smugness, sense of superiority and general air of condescension. Fie.