Guilt

Oh sigh. I am wracked with guilt these days. I think Jung would say that I am in a state of re-evaluation. New job and all. It's making me review past actions and pass some sort of judgement on them.

Of course we know what Freud would say, but we're not going to go there tonight, folks. Well, not just yet, anyway. First we talk about the knitting.

Here you see the pieces of Chaos and the pieces of Textured Raglan (with one sleeve on and one sleeve off). I... cough cough... couldn't find Style, it's been so frackin' long since I've touched it. I thought maybe if I laid these pieces out for you to see you might be able to ridicule encourage me to finish them. As you can see, I am very close on both of these.

I need your guilt trip, people. I've never been able to do anything without guilt. (I blame my early Baptist indoctrination.) Even when I quit smoking all those years ago, I had to tell everyone I spoke to that I had quit, so that I would feel too guilty to ever start smoking again.

It's worked so far. (But is that really a fear of guilt or maybe a fear of failure? Hmmm. Dr. Freud?)

This Startitis is getting a little out of control. I started Isabeau, knitted the whole bag, then ran out of steam yarn with only the handle to do. I started the railroad yarn tank/shell/failure about fifty-four times and frogged it out each time.

And I started this, a Boobholder. Yes, you were waiting for that word to come up, weren't you? Perv.


This goes quickly, though I may have exaggerated slightly when I said 60 seconds. I've done two skeins worth tonight. It has a little shine to it, when the light hits. Like those baby yarns that have the shiny thread in them? Only this shiny thread kind of sticks out. That gives it a sort of crunchy hand while you're knitting. But, it seems to feel softer once it's knitted. Of course, this yarn is never going to win the prize for Softest Yarn, but it is pretty.

And it's better to look good than to feel good, my darlings.

I'm also feeling somewhat guilty about things that I did a long time ago...

Like, all those times I dumped Tide in the city fountain in high school. Oh, and the fountain at the college, too. Jeez, you would not believe how much foam is created by just a small box of Tide.

Okay, that was funny. I'm not really sorry about it.

I am sorry about all those times I changed the letters around on those flashy arrow signs outside businesses. But, really, if they didn't want me to come around and change their messages, they shouldn't have made it so easy for me. My favorite switch was outside a beauty parlor. The sign originally read "PERMS $40". I merely moved the S from the end of the word to the front.

Oh wait. The statute of limitations has run out by now, hasn't it? Yes? Well, then I'm not really sorry about that, either. (Unless my kids are reading this. Then, I'm really sorry. And, uh... That's very bad behavior. I'm so ashamed.)

Yes, and ashamed of my Batman fantasies. And the Supernatural guys. Oh, and the Prison Break brothers. (Oh yes. I need to be really ashamed of those thoughts.) And, of course, Beastmaster.

I actually met Marc Singer at a convention last year. I won't go into it. But, let me just say that we don't mention the name "Beastmaster" around this house any more.