For the past two weeks, I've been knitting a scarf which is my very first project (I had one unfinished a while back but that doesn't count). Knitting consists of two main stitches: knit and purl. And my pattern consists of alternating between one knit stitch and one purl stitch. Simple enough. But I still managed to screw up on the knit stitch. I didn't insert my needle correctly so my stitches were kind of bulging and not really even. And I didn't know that until I felt weird enough and certain of my mistakes that I had someone at the store take a look. And I realized what I did wrong.
Being a professor means that I often tell people what to do. My masochist nature is pleased when my knitting teacher was tough on me while I wasn't quite getting it. This young girl who is much less educated than me can do these darn stitches and she is teaching me something that I don't know. I like the feeling of learning something new because I must be patient, and my brain has to function in a new way. And I like when I have to figure out why we have to do what we are told to do. Why the yarn must be placed in the back before we can do a knit stitch. It all makes sense once I understand.
The shopping freak inside me can't help but buy yarns when I haven't finished my first project yet. (I buy when I go and seek helps on my knitting problems.) I have a list of what I'd like to make that'd take the entire year, or my entire lifetime, to finish it, given my speed and my available time.
Now I'm so into knitting that I carry it with me everywhere. When I am stuck in unmoving traffic or waiting for anything, I knit. I find it keeps me cool and not so pissed off about the wait. When I get bored with grading students' work, I take a break with it. Before I go to bed, I do a few rows. My sister who knows my habit well asked me if I'd ever finish this very first project of mine. The reason is because I am an extremist who often get really into something and get out equally quickly. Just like when I fall in love and fall out of love. The middle path is sorely missing both from my mundane and spiritual worlds.
Being a professor means that I often tell people what to do. My masochist nature is pleased when my knitting teacher was tough on me while I wasn't quite getting it. This young girl who is much less educated than me can do these darn stitches and she is teaching me something that I don't know. I like the feeling of learning something new because I must be patient, and my brain has to function in a new way. And I like when I have to figure out why we have to do what we are told to do. Why the yarn must be placed in the back before we can do a knit stitch. It all makes sense once I understand.
The shopping freak inside me can't help but buy yarns when I haven't finished my first project yet. (I buy when I go and seek helps on my knitting problems.) I have a list of what I'd like to make that'd take the entire year, or my entire lifetime, to finish it, given my speed and my available time.
Now I'm so into knitting that I carry it with me everywhere. When I am stuck in unmoving traffic or waiting for anything, I knit. I find it keeps me cool and not so pissed off about the wait. When I get bored with grading students' work, I take a break with it. Before I go to bed, I do a few rows. My sister who knows my habit well asked me if I'd ever finish this very first project of mine. The reason is because I am an extremist who often get really into something and get out equally quickly. Just like when I fall in love and fall out of love. The middle path is sorely missing both from my mundane and spiritual worlds.
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