Tag Archive: is


Yesterday I posted on Facebook a lot. I got very excited about the documentary series that I was watching and when I get excited about stuff i put it on Facebook/Twitter. One of the things I said had nothing to do with documentaries, however, but it was sort of related in that I was knitting a hat for someone whilst I was watching the documentaries. As amateur knitters will know, it’s hard to find a pattern online for something that you want to make because you have an image in your mind of what you want the thing to look like, but you don’t have the skill or knowledge to make it exactly like that and there usually isn’t a pattern exactly like what you want. Even if there is a good pattern, there is usually something wrong with it, such as it ends up looking different than the little pictures or that it takes circular or dpn needles (<– “dpn needles” is redundant, I realize, but I couldn’t figure out a different way to write it) and you only have straight needles (this is a big problem if you’re trying to make a hat or a glove).

I usually have a lot of these problems when I use patterns, but I think I’m getting to the point where I can manipulate a pattern to do what I want it to do.

My current project is for a former teacher(/friend) of mine. I’ve already blogged about this. It’s a bearded hat. I had many adventures trying to figure out the beard part (of course, now I have a beard and, like, seven mustaches, so I don’t really mind all that much), but that issue was resolved, thankfully. I saved the easy part of the project for last: the beanie. I’ve knitted a beanie before, so I figured that it wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, seeing as there are a million patterns on the internet for hats. I even found one for straight needles fairly quickly, to my amazement.

I had the yarn and the pattern and I had my documentaries and I was rather pleased with myself. It didn’t take me long to finish the hat (considering that I have a million problems of AP Chemistry homework at any given moment), unfortunately, the pattern that was supposed to fit an adult’s head barely fit on my own head. My head is far smaller than the person’s head that I’m making the hat for. Not that I’m calling his head big, but it is in relation to mine.

This isn’t that big of a deal, seeing as I’m used to having to do projects over in order to get the result I was going for. I adjusted the pattern so that it will hopefully fit the person’s head and then I began to cast on. As I complained about on Facebook, I hate the cast on and first row of knitting projects. The stitches are always really tight and there’s a ton of yarn-slack in between all the stitches and it’s really annoying. I put this general complaint in my Facebook status and made an attempt to connect with people who also knit. The first comment, however, was someone who didn’t knit, but understood that beginning something was usually the hardest part of the project.

I think most people would agree with that (except for over-thinkers who just like to disagree with every cliche’ ever…. *cough*), though there could be a reasonable argument against it. For example, life starts out pretty easy for us. We don’t have to feed ourselves or anything, we just lay there and cry. Actually, in the documentary I was watching, they were discussing all the things that babies do to bond with their caregivers and make sure that they do what they want them to do…

An example in favor of this idea was the month of August. August is the second month of CampNaNoWriMo and I was going to write the sequel to the novel that I had written in June. However, I was very tired from doing stuff the week before and when I sat down to start the novel, I got stuck after the first paragraph and just gave up. I’m notorious for giving up on things easily. It’s not that I’ll give up on anything that seems hard at the beginning, but I will give up on it if I don’t think it’s worth my effort. Granted, most things aren’t really worth the effort for me, but there are some things that I am passionate about and I put a lot of effort into them.

Another way to cope with things being hard at the beginning is procrastination. I’ve written about this already, as well, here. I also procrastinate doing things that will be hard, even if I enjoy doing them. I actually enjoy sitting down and doing my homework because I usually think that the topic is interesting (unless it’s math)(Okay, some math is compelling, I just don’t like doing things I’m not good at). Unfortunately, I have been far too exposed to the negative connotations that accompany homework and therefore I procrastinate on it. The problem is that, while I’m procrastinating something that I really should do, it sort of feels…. good? I mean, finishing things and not having things to do feels nice (albeit weird), but when I’m not doing something that I dread doing, I feel like I’m resting.

There are some people (my father) who can’t stand to lay in bed once they’ve initially awakened. I love it, however. Instead of having boring things to think about (I never have boring thoughts), your thought-process is half-way in a dream and I LOVE dreaming. I like how it feels to be dreaming. Even when it’s a scary dream. It feels nostalgic. Also, I feel like when I wake up and have to deal with being awake, it’ll be terrible, so I don’t want to start the day. Not that I get to sleep in very often. when I do, however, i use the incentive that when i wake up I get to eat food and I like eating food even more than I like sleeping or eating.

So, if you were expecting some inspirational end to this blog-post wherein I tell you how important it is to begin things and try things and whatnot, I’m not going to. Stop being so passive and make your own list of reasons why it’s important to start things. I’m too lazy.


This is where I fill up the first part of the post with meaningless stuff (I mean more meaningless than what I normally write) so that people on Facebook can’t tell what I’m going to say just by looking at the little preview that shows up with the link when I post this there. Of course it’s not likely that anyone will be compelled into reading it just because I refuse to let them know what it’s about, but whatever.

Anyway, the events of this weekend have served to make me feel lighter (and not just because I lost five pounds yesterday)(Yeah, I lost five pounds yesterday from laughing and singing and sitting in the sun all day long)(I’m not sure how this works out, seeing as I drank like five bottles full of water…). At risk of letting the internet know where I live (*gasp*)(I guess it’s a good thing no one reads these then), yesterday/today was an important day for our community. Yesterday we had a cultural celebration with the youth in our part of Northern Utah for the dedication of the LDS temple in Brigham City.

I was in the choir for the celebration and basically we sang a bunch of songs, people danced, and those of us who didn’t use sunscreen got sunburned. We were out on a football (American) field from 8:30 (for the choir)(the dancers were there at 6:30) in the morning to about 8:30 that evening. It was a lot of fun.

I know a lot of the kids who had to dance would disagree with me because… well, it was extremely hot out there and they were running all over the place and I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed that much either, which is why I elected to be in the choir. The music we got to sing was really awesome and the dances that the people did look really fun (I actually find dancing to be very enjoyable as long as it is choreographed and not too terribly aerobic) and I just generally like being a part of productions and things because I feel like I’m accomplishing something.

Not to mention that I got to hang out all day with most of my closest friends, which was fun despite how many times they stole my ribbon-flag thingy and poked me and attacked me when I was taking a nap, effectively scaring the crap out of me. I also got a fabulous t-shirt that uses the same colors as the cover of The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. The first time I saw a group of people wearing the blue t-shirts (the other t-shirts were green and yellow), I thought they were all wearing TFiOs shirts, but then I realized that they were pictures of the temple and not clouds.

Going to shows is nice and going to shows with friends is even more nice, but there’s something about being a part of a show with people that you like a lot that makes it feel like you’re being hugged. I don’t generally like being hugged because it makes me feel claustrophobic at times, but I understand what it is that makes people like being hugged. It feels safe and when you’re me, you learn to appreciate feeling safe and I feel safe when I’m doing something that means something with people that mean a lot to me. I even wrote a poem about hugs yesterday for this contest thing. It was good. Believe me.

Understanding hugs is important because people hug me all the time and want me to hug them, which I’m trying to get used to just a little bit. On a sociological level, hugs fascinate me a lot, actually. I just have a hard time knowing how to react to them. Sometimes, if I’m given enough warning, I’m okay, like if someone is going around the circle hugging everyone, but if people just hug me out of nowhere or if I’m not expecting it, I get confused. My incredibly heightened self-preservation instincts kick in and I go into defense mode (my non-violent defense mode)(I don’t usually use my violent defense mode. In fact, I try not to be violent at all. One of the things that annoys me the most is when people hit other people for no reason. Like when guys tease girls playfully and the girls hit the guys. It’s the most ridiculous thing ever, I mean, yes the guy is using a sort of verbal abuse that translates into affection for some weird reason, but why would you want to respond to affection with pain? You’d think it would psychologically train the men not to show affection. OH, WAIT, IT IS HARD FOR GUYS TO SHOW AFFECTIONS SOMETIMES. Is it because girls train them not to? Then they complain about it, but it’s probably their fault)(violence is stupid and pointless violence is even more stupid, so just don’t be violent, people).

Anyway, enough about hugs. This weekend was better than most. That was the point. I hope you all (all two of you) find something to be a part of.


As all two of my regular readers may know, I have neck problems. Specifically, one or more bulged disks in my spine. I’m not really all that sure of specifics because I only heard what is wrong with me secondhand via my mother and she tends to forget half of the important things that are said. Anyway, I have been going to physical therapy for a month or so now. My therapist is super nice and very hilarious and his secretary/assistant lady is pretty awesome. However, I had an interesting experience when I went to my session today.

At the beginning of my sessions, we do this deep-heat thing and then I lay on heat pads for fifteen-ish minutes. One thing of note: I am very bad at determining the passage of time. For example, when I am laying on heat pads in a small room, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to move; I cannot tell how much time has gone by. Mostly, I am finding the patterns in the holes and things on the ceiling. Today was no different. I stared up at the ceiling and discovered a few cyclopes.

After the fifteen minutes were over, a little timer thingy in the room started to beep. Normally, the therapist comes in a few moments later and turns the thing off and we continue with the stuff. This time, the timer continued to beep for a minute or so and then stopped. I continued to lay, not moving. Eventually, I looked at my phone and determined that almost five minutes had passed since the timer had stopped beeping. I then proceeded to alternately freak out and calm down for the next ten minutes. I figured I’d been forgotten or abandoned or whatever you want to call it.  I kept convincing myself that they would come eventually.

Finally, I got brave enough to crack the door of the room a little bit so that whenever someone would walk by, they would see me laying there and possibly feel sorry for me.

Eventually, my therapist came again and proceeded to press against every sensitive, little knot in my neck. THEN, he made me lay down with a rolled up towel under my neck for ten minutes (supposedly), which really ended up being fifteen because, once again, he didn’t hear the timer when it went off. Fortunately, his assistant was paying attention and rescued me from the total mental breakdown I’m sure would have happened had I been forced to wait any longer.

In conclusion, I have issues. The first step to solving a problem is to realize that you have a problem, right? Suspiciously, no one seems to know what the second step is. Perhaps next time I’ll fake a heart attack to get their attention…

Saddest Episode:

The thing about Doctor Who, Steven Moffat in particular, is that they read your mind, figuring out the worst possible thing you can imagine happening to your favorite characters, and then making it happen. That is the reason why Moffat is so accurately labeled the biggest troll ever. Frankly, his writing style is my favorite thing ever. He has no qualms with taking a beloved character and making them SUFFER. I, myself, try to kill off most of my characters at the end of the story, if not all of them. The world should thank writers like that; if we didn’t get to kill characters in books, then who knows how many real people we would end up killing?

Anyway, the saddest episodes are the one where Rose “dies”, the one where River “dies”, the one where Ten regenerates into Eleven (the one where he “dies”), and all of the ones where Rory “dies”. Also, the one where the doctor has to wipe Donna’s memory (I didn’t want to mention it because she doesn’t “die” and I wanted to keep the pattern up, but it’s very sad…).

Interestingly enough, whenever someone actually dies, it’s like, “Oh, darn, someone actually died… BEAT UP THE BAD ALIENS!!!!!!!” yet the really sad parts are when people “die”. All of the instances when people ambiguously die, but really are becoming inaccessible, such as the examples above, it seems to be so much sadder. Moffat is brilliant like that. To just kill them would be sad, but to have them still technically be alive but unreachable is TRAGIC.

Once I wrote a novel about time travel and after my main character spent all this time trying to fix all of the things that had gone wrong in time under the impression that she would be able to return to her normal life, she finished to find that she would cease to exist and another version of herself would take her place and then she sort of becomes lost in the darkness of space. Of course the scene could have been way more sad than I wrote it because when I think that I’m going to write some deep, emotional scene, I get lazy and write what happened. That’s why I rarely let people read things that I write seriously, because they are usually awful.

Anyway, as long as Moffat is in charge of Doctor Who, everyone is going to be miserable and yet strangely compelled to continue watching. He’s a freaking warlock like that. We’ve been magicked. Good luck with your hopes and dreams.