It’s been a long year, in terms of success. Actually, it’s been a long life. As a young, competitive musician, success was laid out for you in exacting terms: Play well, humiliate that annoying twelve-year-old with Beethoven or Mendelssohn, and when you do fuck up, don’t run off the stage while using your concert attire as a hankie. Snot is really obvious on black clothes.
But ever since I realized that the delicious tears of twelve-year-olds are not enough to sustain a career, it’s been a bit tough to nail down exactly what makes me feel like I’m doing well in life. As practice children, my dogs often make me feel like I’m going to be the kind of mother who gets regularly ridiculed on the local news. (“After the children had been located doing what they described as “playing Firefly” in the Guns & Knives section of the Walmart*, the Channel 5 news team caught up with their mother, who was holding up the line at the liquor store next door while she attempted to convince her credit card company that $500 is not a suspicious amount of money to spend on gin.”)
*Walmart has this, right? I assume that’s what they put in when they decimated the craft section, which was coincidentally right around the time that I stopped going to Walmart.
The point is that knitting is usually the thing that makes me feel successful these days, mostly since I realized that birthdays, Christmas, and other gift-giving occasions are competitions that can be won or lost, and I can be a pretty serious contender given the time and supplies. (Except for MDMA Mario. Sorry, Corey.) One of my greatest motivations for tackling this project — other than money and the fear of having to show a seamstress my boobs — has been the conviction that I can somehow “win” at weddings if I’m just crafty enough. None of my other planning skills are remarkable in the least; for instance, I’m pretty sure I scared off the terribly nice manager at that awesome venue by being a bit over-enthusiastic in an email follow-up. She probably refers to me to her coworkers as “that creepy girl who uses awkward smileys in emails. What is this, 1997? Who does that? Also, her shoes were stupid.*”
*I have been informed that normal people don’t usually internalize other people’s unarticulated judgements to this degree. I’m working on it with my therapist, Dr. Mcgillicuddy**.
**Just kidding, I don’t actually drink that. It’s disgusting. Unfortunately, none of my go-to boozes have advanced degrees.
So, what was I talking about? Right, success. I did it! I succeeded, and not by some made-up hypothetical standard that I set for myself to maintain my top-notch self esteem! I actually did something right:
Yep, the first panel of the skirt is completed and is actually the correct size. I did run out of pins about halfway through blocking it and had to finish with needles, but let’s focus on the positive here: I’m 1/4 of the way done with the skirt! Except that’s actually not even true because this was one of the front panels, which are naturally a lot shorter than the back ones that include the train. So more like 1/6, generously.
Fuck it, I’m proud of myself.