Happy V-Day!

So folks, I'm going to do that incredibly awkward thing and talk about vaginas on the internet. I'm doing so not to be lewd but to acknowledge that they (and their owners) are important and that talking about them is important, too. While Valentine's Day makes most people think of roses and chocolates and kisses and tiny winged archers, it makes me think about what it means to be a woman and about women's rights.  I don't often jump on non-fiber-related soapboxes on this blog but today, I am, and I'm going to try to use as many amusing euphamisms for our Ladybits as possible not because I  think 'vulva' or 'vagina' are dirty words but because the euphemisms themselves are fantastic. Consider yourself alerted!

Are you a woman? You should own these books. Are you a man? You should at least watch the Monologues.

My physical therapist recommended I read The V Book, written by a Harvard professor and practicing gynocologist, and boy am I glad I did. It is essentially an owner's manual for your Honey Pot. The first few chapters are a fascinating read about the history of care and anatomy and function of everything Downstairs and I have to say that even as a difficult-to-embarrass and rather 'enlightened' woman, and a biologist no less, I didn't know some fairly basic things. For one, there's an entire part called the vestibule that I had no idea had a name. If we don't know what the Fancy Bits are even called, how can we know if/when there is a problem? And how would we describe it? There's an entire delicately-balanced ecosystem contained within your Hey-nonny-no and the second half of the book details how things should be, how they shouldn't, and what could possibly go wrong. Admittedly, that part of the book is mildly terrifying (anything involving the word 'green' in relation to my Thingamy is highly disconcerting) but I'd rather be informed than not, especially when most problems are easily prevented and/or dealt with when you know what to look for.

The second book, The Vagina Monologues, is a series of dramatic monologues written by Eve Ensler, who interviewed women all over the world about their Peach Pits. There are stories in there about every aspect of womanhood and the entire point was to get the world comfortable with talking about Joy Boxes because in a perfect world where women's sexuality is respected, women themselves will also be respected. It is a humorous, charming, and touching play and a really wonderful thing to see performed if you can manage it. I had the chance to act in a performance of it in college and it really opened up my eyes to how lucky I was to be a girl with solid self-confidence born into a family and community that respected me... and how easily my life as a woman could have been very, very different.

Even better, it's made an impact on the entire world through the global V-Day movement. The funds raised from the performances goes towards stopping sexual and domestic violence against women and girls. So far, the organization has raised over $85 million and has launched educational programs and opened shelters for battered women in multiple countries. If you can't get to a performance, you can donate directly through the website. I'm not one to tell people what the should and shouldn't think, but when it comes to women's rights, there is really only one position I understand: equality. I can't relate to women who claim that they are not feminists. If you are a woman who says that you don't support feminism, you are essentially saying that your own gender makes you less of a person and therefore less deserving of respect and equal treatment in society. If you, yourself, are saying this, how can you expect other people (namely, men) to respect you, and if they don't respect you, what's to stop them from hurting you?

We cannot love what we don't understand, and if we don't love and respect that which biologically defines us as female, who will? Respect yourselves, ladies. In a nutshell: don't doubt your abilities, aim higher, get out of bad relationships, do good and demand good in return, remember your strength, define your independence, develop something more meaningful than your looks, and make sure the men in your life know that your Sweet Bottom Grass is an important part of you but not the only important part of you. Understand your Yoni, love your Yoni. Now, go forth and learn about your Crinkum-crankums*!

* All of these euphamisms were listed with their eras of origin in The V Book. Crinkum-crankum, from the late 18th centuray, is my favorite because it is clearly awesome. Hey-nonny-no is a close second.

Getting Back On Track

After the hurricane we lost power for a few days, but thankfully nothing much worse occurred here in our little corner of Connecticut. During that time I began my new job as a marine biologist at an environmental consulting firm in Rhode Island. Between both of those things (and our usual lack of TV/radio), I've just now had the chance to look at stories regarding the effects of Hurricane Sandy and it's all just so, so sad. New York City and the south shore of Long Island, where I grew up, were particularly hard hit. In one sense, it's natural: storms happen and with such high density populations living near the coast, a lot of people are going to be affected. However, the fact that storms like this are just going to continue to become worse and more frequent due to climate change, which a good portion of our country doesn't understand and refuses to even acknowledge, is what is really scary. We can't handle or prepare for a problem that we refuse to take steps to address (drastically reducing fossil fuel consumption). Scary! But I'm not here to lecture. I'm here to send warm wishes to those who lost their homes or businesses to the winds and flooding and to suggest sending a small donation to the Red Cross for hurricane relief if you can spare it. Every little bit counts when there are so many people whose lives have been completely changed.

I also have some pictures to share of a small, local beach in the area. All but the first of these were taken on Tuesday 10/30, after the worst of the storm occurred:

Monday night after things calmed down. That full moon is pretty but also responsible for the extra  high lunar tides.

Debris under the railroad bridge leading to the beach.

Huge driftwood and pieces of uplifted pavement.

Bench buried in sand.

The wave action completely changed this beach. Those were all dunes and the path used to be a very steep climb.

I don't even know where this piece of boardwalk used to be.

Fallen limbs.

Seawalls in action and another destroyed beach in the background.

The wrack line, which indicates the uppermost limit of the tide, way back into the park.

Trying to give a sense of how far from the water the wrack line was.

More ripped up dunes/hill.

This used to be a parking lot!

Broken seawall.

Broken street.

This is all just minor damage and it still really reminds you of the strength of the sea, how little control we have, and how long it's going to take to fix everything. I'm hoping that you and your loved ones are safe, wherever you may be, and that everyone can get back to their regular lives sooner than later.

Reassessment

Siiiigh... these goal lists... why do I even make them?

Because I'm Type A and love lists, even when they just highlight my lack of accomplishments. I prefer to think of them as motivation for reaching higher standards... yeah. That's it.

May June Sock Goals:

• Maia socks (80% 85% done)
• Gone Fishin' socks (DONE!)
• Lunacy! socks (1% 25% done)
• New Sock Design (0% 10% done)

As for my To-Do-Before-Going-Back-On-The-Boat-List, things didn't fare much better. I did manage to rewrite and update my Beribboned Wrists pattern, finish and publish my Fiasco sock pattern, work out (most of) the design for the next sock in my How I Met Your Mother series, and design/knit up most of the secret project I'd like to submit to Knit Picks. However, I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish that and submit it by the 14th, that depends a lot on how long my boat days are this week. As for the rest of the list (job/apartment hunting and planning camping trips)-- epic fail. For now, anyway.

Edited to remove excessive whine:
I'm getting a bit tired of this research boat, not going to lie. I think I've officially outgrown my capacity to be a research assistant. I need to be in charge, need to use the ol' noggin more rigorously. This puts me in a tough spot, though, because for most of the in-charge jobs you need a PhD, and for a PhD you need time and a willingness to be 1) broke and 2) all-consumed by your work for the next 5-6 years, and those are tough pills to swallow. All that said, I know I'm lucky to even have a job in this economy, plus this is the last round of sampling, so after the next few weeks it will just be 7 hour office days for the rest of the summer. The office days are pretty boring, but at least they're half as long.

Just keep swimming,amIright?

P.S. I added different pages to my blog in the tabs above. Now you can see my designs, my spinning in progress, my socks in progress, my other works in progress, and my finished socks on their own pages. Yay for procrastination through digital organization!

Dabbler

Sometimes I see/hear/find things that make my breath catch and my heart beat a little bit faster. Like this:

A cellist named Steven Sharp Nelson took Bach's Prelude No. 1 (a classic cello solo piece) and rewrote it in 8 parts, giving it a bit of modern twist with some percussion, and basically just made it even more awesome. I love that piece, I've played the cello since 3rd grade (though I haven't busted it out much these last few years) and it always makes me giddy happy when I play it. Hearing it like this is wonderful. There are a number of other wonderful videos on ThePianoGuys youtube channel, as well, such as a piano and cello cover of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" and an orchestral cover of OneRepublic's "Secrets". They are fantastic and wonderful and I'm in love.

Sometimes I wonder where my life would have gone if I had focused on the cello instead of school. I remember at some point in my past making a choice between them, though my teacher had insisted that I could've played the cello professionally if I practiced it more, if I had wanted it more. I'm a bit of a dabbler, I feel like I could have gone on to be a musician, a poet, an english teacher... I have and had so many interests, so many loves. I chose science because I was good at it and it seemed to make more sense, it seemed more secure, but sometimes I wonder if I would've been happier doing something more artistic. Like maybe designing knitwear full-time or dying yarn? Sigh.

It's hard to know what's better: being a master of a particular craft, or being a dabbler in many but master of none. Some days I think being a master is preferable because then you could do amazing things like Steven Sharp Nelson and bring people so much joy. And other days I think being a dabbler is better because as such I know just enough about many different things to be able to really appreciate them. Who knows, right?

Where Did The Year Go?

One year ago today, this was me:

Shawl pictured: Springtime Bandit

Super excited, newly engaged, and completely unaware of the craziness (much of it unfortunately bad) that 2011 would bring. But I managed, because I had this goofball by my side:

Shawl pictured: Aestlight

We're currently no closer to having a wedding planned or knowing what our futures hold than we were a year ago, but that's alright. I know we'll figure it all out eventually because we have each other*. Awwwwww...   :)

*I'm rarely this cheesy in public but it is our engage-versary and I just couldn't help myself. Sorry!

Is It Sexist?

I'm not sure how I feel about people calling me "hun". I know it isn't intended to be demeaning, but something in me balks at it. It doesn't bother me much when the middle-aged woman at the grocery store calls me "hun", I'm still caught off guard a little by the implied familiarity, but I guess I just chalk it up to maternal instincts. However, when men call me "hun"-- it bothers me. This has happened a few times in the last year or so, including a student of mine in a class I was TAing last fall and the dude at Subway just now. The student calling me "hun" was entirely inappropriate, and if it had happened again I would have had to address it (at the time I was too surprised) but he was a good deal older than me, so that perhaps explains his lack of boundaries. But this dude at Subway just now? I'm pretty sure I'm older than he was, so that explanation is out. Who the heck is he to call me "hun"? And it's not like I misheard, he said it a handful of times throughout our 2-minute checkout exchange. It's very strange. I know there are plenty of worse things to be called than "hun", but apparently the feminist inside me hates it! Perhaps because it seems a mere stone's-throw away from "toots" or "sweetcheeks" or some other patronizing, pre-sexual-harassment-era term of endearment. Maybe they think it's sweet, but it bugs me. Is a man calling a woman he doesn't know or barely knows "hun" inappropriate? Is it sexist? Is my being bothered by it coming from men but not women sexist? These are the burning questions that occupy my thoughts when I am procrastinating beginning yet another pointless bout of data analysis.

As far as knitting goes, I'm dreaming of the day when I have time to actually sit and knit complex, beautiful things like laceweight shawls or, oh my, even sweaters! To have the brainpower left over at the end of the day to focus and keep track of all of that would be awesome. I'm feeling the time crunch to finish a pair of mittens (it's dang cold outside!) and neither the fussy Flints nor the mawata mittens are get-up-and-go type projects. I hate feeling restricted to knitting only simple things, either by time or energy level or concentration ability. So this is the knitting I have with me at the moment, and I don't even want to work on it:

Bugga in Fig Eater and Dog Days Cicada

This is a bit of a Taygete shawl by Rosemary (Romi) Hill that I began back in August. The shawl is knit end to end alternating stripes and then you pick up along the bottom edge to knit a lace section and surround the whole thing with a picot edging. It should be lovely when it's done, but I've become disenchanted with it. I'm just past the midpoint of the lengthwise section and although I believe it will be a very pretty shawl when it's finished, it's really kind of boring now. I loved the color combo when I chose it, but now I'm feeling like it's more of a fall combo than a winter/spring combo and I don't think I have many outfits that will match it after all...it's just not revving my engine. I wish it was. I'll still work on it b/c of its mindlessness, but this is how I end up with projects that are on the needles for months and months and months. Disenchantment... the silent FO killer.

Oh Lately It's So Quiet

I wish I had a happier reason for not having posted in a while (like a vacation to Disneyland or an abduction by aliens who live on a planet made entirely of Bugga), but in truth it is because I am dealing with a very difficult and distressing family situation over which I have no control. I can only sit here and watch and hope, while 160 miles away the fabric of the reality I once knew that had knit my family together is being tinked apart. Stitch by stitch, row by row, it's been happening for a few years now and the other day it reached all the way back to the cast-on edge. Then the foundation started to unravel, too, and everything is now a big tangled mess. I'm not sure if it's hit me yet how close things were to coming completely undone, to the slipknot releasing, to the yarn falling entirely off the needles.

All I know is that I am at once thankful that there are still stitches to pick up, but worried about the work and the diligence it will take to re-knit and certain that the fabric will never look quite the same again. The yarn will be stretched and kinked, the stitch count might be off, the shaping and row counting will have to begin again, perhaps the pattern will even even need to be reconsidered. It might end up as an entirely different piece, and whether the changes are good or bad it is a frightening concept, this unknown, particularly when the stakes are so high. 

I am thankful that I have my Fiasco, who came into my life in the nick of time just before this Great Unraveling began. I am thankful for my friends and for my extended family who treat me with nothing but compassion, love, and respect. I am thankful for whatever it is in me that pulled me far enough out of my emotions to accomplish some work today because no matter what is happening 160 miles away, here, in a week, I will be defending my master's thesis, which this late in the game cannot be changed. Mostly, though, I am thankful that something stopped the worst from happening. For whatever it was that kept that slipknot tied just tightly enough, I am thankful.