|
TheScribbleGirl
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Libby-Kitty
Gender: Female
Expertise: Foolishness. I am really up on it when it comes to foolishness, be it others' or my own, ancient or modern. Pointing out foolishness or being oblivious to foolishness. Recording foolishness in great detail or forgetting foolishness with great haste. In fact, I am seriously considering making the study of foolishness my lifetime goal.
Industry: Textiles
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  TheScribbleGirl
Member Since:
1/5/2006
|
|
| I really despise quilting borders. You finish the body of the quilt and you celebrate because YAY! You're nearly done! and then gradually you wake up to the fact that what you called "really done" was actually quite a distance aways from "being done." It's a horrid disallusionment. This entire quilt I've been quilting "in the ditch," which means you sew just beside the seams of the patchwork so you can't see the quilting lines. And I've been quilting very respectable stitches - on the small side of medium, I'd say. But now I'm tracing a "flying geese" pattern all around, which means white stitches on a blue background, which means the the stitches have to be infitessimal.
My fingers are raw, my room is an utter wreck, I haven't finished unpacking, much less repacking, and I badly need to work on my SIP, the rough draft of which is due the first week I'm back at school. But I don't have time for any of that.
Because I'm quilting borders.
| | |
| It is hotter today than it has been in Anniston for 27 years. Twenty-seven bleepety-bleep years!
I have no words.
They've all been fried, baked or melted in this HEAT.
| | |
|
Before I came I read a story about a man who resigned from
his post in India
“because the salt wouldn’t come out of the shaker.” Little things piled on top
of each other until finally, the humidity being too high to allow salt to go
through the holes in the shaker was the final straw. Janna warned us to bring
whatever we used to decompress because sometimes having to use the “wrong”
thing to de-stress would drive us over the edge. Priscilla talks of camp being
deeply stressful with its mice, creaky beds and icy showers.
None of these things really,
truly bother me.
Certainly
there are things I miss – ice, for instance. But really, I’d be fine without
ice for any number of months, not to mention air conditioning, springs in
my mattress or milk that doesn’t come in a box. The lack of these things isn’t
going to send me over the edge.
I miss
being loved. I miss my boyfriend hugging me for no reason, seeing my friend’s
eyes light up when they see me, being essential to another person’s happiness.
Certainly I
am well cared for here, even loved, after a fashion. But it is a caring and a
love that does not belong to me; it
belongs to the role I fill. They would care for and love any intern or employee
that came to work for them in the same way. It is a love that has nothing to do
with knowing me. I miss
being known.
| | |
| I think I'm going to take another stab at maintaining a xanga. It helps the decompression process immensely and maybe now that I'm in Slovakia I might actually have something to write about. On the other hand, I already have an unhealthy addiction (are any addictions healthy?) in facebook, and I know xanga can be equally soul-consuming. So maybe we'll do this on a trial basis.
It is raining. As in, cats-and-dogs, hammers-and-anvils kind of raining. It started at about 6 and it's now 8:30. Earlier it was storming really bad - the business below us got a couple of windows broken from stuff flying around, and we discovered that the balcony door leaks a lot if enough water gets poured on it - but now it's just raining. 2/3 of everybody - or maybe 3/3 - who works at the Building normally is still here. Partly because we're coming close to our deadline, and partly because there's internet here, and partly because most of us have a secret - or not so secret - workaholic streak. The fact that we'd be soaked before we got to the edge of the parking lot (did I mention that only one of us has a car) is really quite incidental. Bo is cooking chicken and I think we might watch a movie later.
| | |
| Well Molly and her copious paraphenalia have been trundled off to Covenant, and the house feels very empty. It is SO WEIRD to think that she's not coming back, that I'm going to join her at Covenant. I haven't decided yet whether I'm going to go up with my parents on Friday when they go for parent orientation meetings. (In my opinion they've already learned everything there is to learn from the parents' point of view with my two Covenantal years, but Mama says that she wants to do everything for Molly that they did for me.) Since Molly's already moved in, I might not... We tried to get Covenant to let me move in on Friday so that my parents don't have to go up and back three times, but no go. I'll be moving in on Tuesday with the rest of the non-athletic-upperclassmen world.... Still don't know who the fourth person in our apartment is going to be. Sigh... | | |
|
