When I start a new knitting or crochet project I’m just so excited. It’s all new and fresh and I’ve already forgotten about how hard it was to pick it out and be sure I have everything together– the latter being by far the least difficult part. I’m going to have this GREAT THING to keep or give, and soon! Perhaps I even have some new tool to use, or there’s a technique I’ve never tried before– what will happen! I’m practically vibrating with the near-scientific-method joy of it all.
Then I get going, and maybe I’m not seeing it come together like I imagined, and I start looking at the instructions, and wondering if I pictured it wrong. This is a particular problem if there are no pictures, or none other than one particularly unhelpful one of the item in use. Perhaps I start to lose faith, or at least interest because this is going poorly (or well) and there are so many more patterns and different yarns in the future, and really don’t I need/want to be working on one of THEM now? Really?
Maybe I even come up with a reason to start one of those other projects. I might need something “smaller” to take on a trip, or something “with a simpler stitch” to work on during a busy time. Even more insidious is when I decide I need something totally different and specific for a specific gift-giving time or purpose. So I get out another project– possibly with a deadline! Deadlines equal built in adrenaline rush! That’s a free high, right?
If you make it, it is. If you don’t… then it’s a free trip on the self-flagellation train. Everyone loves to ride that train, right? Well, I know I must, because I take lots of excuses to do it. So, let’s say I did.
When I get off at “Back where I started” station, there it is, the abandoned project. It’s standing there with its coffee and it’s glaring at me. “About time!” It’s saying. “This coffee was instant and it’s getting cold!”
I buy it a latte at Starbucks and we get back to work. It’s developed its own personality by now and I’m just wanting to get it finished and put it to rest. (Finished projects, of course, have no personality because they’re busy being useful and the time you shared together is sort of like one of those movie bachelor parties in Las Vegas– never to be spoken of again.)
It happens, sooner or later, and everything’s GRAND! I’m wearing/giving/using my new project for the first time (because it has to happen RIGHTNOWOMG!). Then the little dance of maker superiority is over. I sit back down.
I look around.
Okay… what now. I have nothing to craft with my hands now.
So it’s back to my notes on ideas to slug away at myself and the piles of pictures and patterns I manage to gather with crazy regularity. I’m excited! Only….
… Which one!
They’re all pretty darn useful and/or awesome, or I wouldn’t have saved them. Sometimes the stash can break a tie (I type tie, here, but is it really a tie when it’s between a half dozen or more things?) and I choose based on yarn that I had to have or was on a crazy sale way back when. Sometimes it’s not that simple and I’ll change my mind a dozen times before actually starting on something… and in the meantime more patterns will show up and more “needs” will reveal themselves until I am, in fact, just basically sitting in a huge mountain of potential.
It’s kind of a metaphor for my life, but that’s another story.