Remembrance of Things Past
When You Get Ticked - a blog entry by Lolly - made me stop in my tracks this morning.
It made me think back to October 14, 1996 when I woke up, went to brush my teeth and stared with horror at my reflection in the mirror. A partially paralysed face is not something you expect to stare back at you when you look in the mirror. The paralysis was the culmination of several months' fatigue, cognitive confusion and persistent neck/ear pain. My best friend took me to see my doctor. Within two hours of waking up, I was in a hospital bed with brain scans and extensive blood work lined up.
Lyme Disease is a real bitch, boys and girls. It has been almost thirteen years and, although treated at the time, LD is still with me in tiny, unexpected ways. When I move my mouth, the weakened muscles around my left eye twitch. My body is slightly more susceptible to stress than most people. And I wear a lot of hats because an ear infection can affect the nerves controlling the facial muscles (ask me how I know).
So check your body for tiny black dots if you have been walking in the woods or through tall grass. Some get the famous bullseye rash after a few weeks of being bitten (I didn't). If you start getting flu-like symptoms, a persistent neck/ear pain and what can best be described as "a cognitive fog", then go see your doctor.
Thank you, Lolly, for reminding me about all this because some things need to be remembered, some things need to be shared.
Question For Today
So, knitting can delay memory loss! That is great news. But, I wonder, can knitting also stop my migraine from getting worse?
The answer is no, sadly.
Uggggh (says the bloggerista/knitterina who promptly heads for a silent, dark room).
For This I Am Thankful
“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their latter end, upon all the living and the dead.”
It is snowing outside (again!) and I am reminded of James Joyce's wonderful short story "The Dead" (found in Dubliners and made into a beautiful film by John Huston). Even if you are the sort who shudder at the thought of James Joyce, give "The Dead" a chance. It is exquisite - and also the snowiest story I can imagine (something which may sound nonsensical but if you read it, you'll understand).
Earlier this week I was given my first birthday present. I do not write much about what it was like moving from Denmark to Scotland - but it was an uneasy transition and I found it somewhat difficult to build up a new network of friends. So, when I was given an unexpected birthday present by my Glasgow circle of friends, this act of friendship felt particularly poignant. The present? All the wool I need to make Flyte. It feels slightly overwhelming, if in a good way.
(Related: I am trying to find buttons for my Forecast cardigan (which is knitting up nicely, hence much radio silence). I went to John Lewis and discovered that ten buttons would cost me almost as much as all the wool for the cardi. That's not an option. I have looked at Textile Garden, eBay, Etsy, Bedecked, Pavi Yarns and Ribbon Moon. Any other places I should look?)
Finally, I have found yet another t-shirt I feel I should own, I pity this poor dog (although I'm also slightly amused by the Poodle Ninja Turtle-Leonardoodle), and I'm keeping a close eye on Academic Earth in case anything fun turns up. And, of course, CityPoem Copenhagen..
Find An Easier Way
Observation #1: I don't outright hate the Leona Lewis cover of "Run" (youtube link) although I still prefer the the Snow Patrol original (youtube link). I am mildly disturbed and am now going to listen to ironic hipster music.
Observation #2: I recently decided that I was spreading myself thin in social networking and blogging ventures. In real terms, this meant I took a long, hard look at my networking efforts, where I was spending my energy and creativity and what sort of return I got on my investments. My conclusions were interesting, to say the least. I shut down profiles, merged accounts and am now limiting myself to very few outlets. It feels a lot more streamlined, easy to manage and has energised me. I am also surprised/entertained to see how I think of this new structure in corporate terms: efficiency, venture, restructure, investment, and management. Hmm.
Observation #2.1: While I have been pleasantly surprised by my new networking structure, others have apparently been mildly upset by my actions. What I find "better organised", some online friends think of as "shutting out". Is it a sign of how fragile online friendships are (I don't think so) or a sign of how online friendships dependent upon a given context (I don't think so either)? Whatever it signifies, I just want to clarify that I am just as accessible as ever. I have just limited the number of places where people can interact with me. Of course people can also email me, but I warn you: I'm notoriously bad at getting back to mails. Just ask my mother ..
Observation #3: I spent some quality time with my nephew (who's almost three now!) this weekend. I was amused to note that I'm the cool, slightly wacky aunt who dares her nephew to jump into mud pools and who tells stories about gnomes and elves. Oh, and who is really good at Pooh-sticks.
PS. Blur reunion?!.
Birthday Boy
Other Half celebrates his thirty-something-mumble-mumble birthday today. Happy birthday, David.
I managed to finish a pair of fingerless mitts (a male variation upon these in Artesano Alpaca Aran) last night whilst at the knit-in at Sith Café. I wouldn't say I was knitting frantically, but I didn't pet the resident dog as much I usually do. Dave's wearing the gloves today so no photos, alas.
Last year I attempted a Dalek Cake with .. interesting results (as you can see, I fail spectacularly at cake decorating) so having knitted successful mitts = a much better birthday already. Fewer hysterical laughs anyway.
Other presents include a card wallet, Swedish vampire fiction, an awesome Death Star t-shirt (his favourite present, I think) and posh art supplies. I'm mildly jealous.
Now off to swanky dinner at our favourite restaurant.. thank you everybody who has contributed to making this a great day for the skinny indie kid.
And Then We Came To This
We have the dreaded November lurgee in Casa Bookish. I have also found myself embroiled in an unexpected and uncalled-for family drama (it's double the fun when you're in another country). So, this is all the blogging you'll get out of me today.
This little animated video will have to do:
Peace out, dudes and dudettes. Although anybody with a great flu remedy should leave a comment.
Six Weeks of Solitude: Back To Reality
Anna left an astute comment to my first post on the Six Weeks of Solitude idea:
I find the idea of six weeks alone in the middle of nowhere very tempting, but I think I’d had to not take my knitting - for me it would be less about silence, and more about not ‘keeping busy’ all the time.
When I originally thought about spending six weeks on my own, I worked out how many books I could read in six weeks, then trimmed the number as to leave me some spare time and still wound up with eighteen books. Anna reminded me of the intention behind spending six weeks on a windy island. It is not to glance at pages (however tempting) but to glance inwards.
So we will leave the number at twelve (first list, second list) plus one: Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I remember when the US Army captured Saddam Hussein and news reports claimed that Hussein had been stashing Dostoyevsky novels in his underground chambers. My old mentor and I were enjoying coffee in central Copenhagen just after the news broke and I still remember my mentor drily saying he hoped Notes from the Underground had been one.
Six weeks of solitude. Thirteen books. A chance to centre myself. Should I bring knitting? Absolutely. Knitting can be very meditative - particular if I am knitting miles and miles of stocking stitch (as I would with my first project). Stocking stitch is not the only type of knitting that relaxes my body and focuses my mind. Lace knitting can be frustrating at its worst, but at its best I drift into a strange realm of "k1, YO, k2tog, YO.." which feels as good as any Aum.
My second knitting project would be lace. Evelyn C. Clarke's Forget-Me-Not Lace Shawl hits all the right marks, especially when I imagine it knitted up in Old Maiden Aunt alpaca/silk/cashmere in a deep forest green. Hours and hours of pleasure - and much introspection too. Knitting is good for the soul.
On that little note, I'm leaving my imagined island cottage. Time to face the busy streets of Glasgow.
Six Weeks of Solitude: Comforts and Frights
A sneak preview of my current project. I am test-knitting a pattern for Old Maiden Aunt and I'm quite excited about a new technique I've just picked up.
The Six Weeks of Silence idea seemed particularly attractive this morning after waking up abruptly at 5am because of a neighbour getting ready for work and then being kept awake by builders dragging debris down the communal stairs. I was lying in bed dreaming of that little cottage on Skye: no neds fighting in the street, no taxis honking their horns at 3am, no alarm clocks, no thumping bass-lines.. the idea was so overwhelmingly beautiful that I was almost ready to give up internet access, live-in partner and chai lattes. Almost.
Six more books for the Isle of Skye:
- James Robertson: The Testament of Gideon Mack: I have already read this book, but that is why I know it'd make a perfect companion for weeks of solitude (although it might just freak me out too). A (Scottish) book about faith, imagination and how to define reality and truth.
- James Hogg: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner: If Gideon Mack with its strange opaque view of reality is on my list, I should also have the book to which it owes a great deal. A good university friend was a dedicated Hogg fan. I hope to catch up. I also like books that play off one another.
- Rodge Glass: Alasdair Gray - A Secretary's Biography: And to round off this small selection of Scottish literature, a book I suspect Father Christmas might give me this year. A biography of one of my favourite authors written in a positively Boswellian manner. And it's all taking place just down the road from my current dwellings. I suspect hermit life on Skye will make me long for the colourful Glasgow West End.
- Virginia Woolf: Flush: Some light reading is required, of course. Like most pale, sensitive and female literature graduates, I like Virginia Woolf far too much. I also happen to like dogs (which reminds me: this puppy cam is teh crack) and Woolf has penned a little "biography" of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's cocker-spaniel. When the winds really start getting to me on Skye, I will want to curl up with this book about dogs, poetry and Victorian passions.
- Michael Chabon: The Yiddish Policemen's Union: Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay was such a pleasant surprise to me. I had anticipated inflated self-importance in the vein of Dave Eggers or Jonathan Safran Foer or maybe even painful so-called 'literary' writing like Jonathan Frazen or Jeffrey Eugenides (you can tell I have issues with male contemporary American writers) - but Chabon proved an utter delight and I am looking forward to being delighted once more. The Yiddish Policemen's Union even has a character based upon an internet friend of mine which is slightly intriguing too.
- Rose Tremain: Music and Silence: A book not chosen for its title but because of its historical setting in my native Denmark. Another book which has been languishing on my shelves for too long and a book where the historical context is so familiar that I look forward to seeing a foreigner's take. Okay, and maybe a tiny bit to do with "silence".
And then the knitting. I wrote yesterday that I had two projects in mind which was not strictly true. I always have a gazillion possible projects running through my head and I spend much time thinking about yarns and pattern combinations. For six weeks of solitude I could easily have chosen half a dozen projects, but the idea is to limit myself. Six weeks without noise or distractions could easily mean 'difficult patterns which require concentration and dilligence' but my head does not work like that.
The first project would be Kate Gilbert's Union Square Market Pullover in my beloved DROPS Alpaca. I'd use a warm chocolate brown as the main colour and a deep turquoise (or maybe a deliciously brash magenta) as the contrast colour. The choice of pattern is simple: it calls for miles and miles of mindless stocking stitch on 3.25mm needles. I don't think anything short of being marooned on a remote Scottish island for six weeks could ever make me knit that pullover (and yet I love its elegance and simplicity).
Final part tomorrow. Hopefully I will also have a finished knitted object to show you.
Six Weeks of Solitude: And I Dream of Central Heating
Saturday's Guardian Magazine had a short, but fascinating, article on the joys of silence. The author of the article, Sara Maitland, rented an isolated cottage on the Isle of Skye for six weeks and attempted to live in complete solitude and silence. She had brought enough food to last her six weeks, a few books and some sewing to keep her company. Her experience makes for interesting reading but it also made me wonder.
I am a big fan of silence and solitude myself. It's possibly the aftermath of living in lively student halls for years followed by shared accommodation or maybe it is because I am an only child and spent my formative years playing by myself. The idea of spending six weeks by myself on a remote Scottish island intrigues me - although I would probably never go through with it as I'm very, very fond of central heating, fresh milk and my partner. Still, the idea made me wonder what books and knitting projects I'd bring with me to keep me company for six weeks.
Books. Six weeks equals fifty-six days. Depending upon the book, it would last between two hours and two days. As this would be an exercise in enjoying silence and finding solitude, I would not want to squeeze in too many books, but I wouldn't want to get bored either. Call it fifteen books, okay eighteen books.
- Johannes V. Jensen: Kongens Fald [The Fall of the King]: One of the most acclaimed Danish novels and Modernist to boot. I started reading it last year but put it aside when I started to get very busy with work. It would be a return to my native language and history.
- William Makepeace Thackeray: Vanity Fair: My good friend Maria once spent her entire Christmas holiday holed up in Inverness with nothing but this book to keep her company. I vaguely remember reading it (maybe just starting it) during my mad "I need to have read all the classics before I turn fifteen" phase. I'd like to revisit it with older, wiser eyes.
- E.M. Forster: The Longest Journey: The only Forster novel I have not read (and I even have a lovely copy given to me by my old friend Søren). Realistically, the first novel I would reach for in that little cottage. I like Forster. He is so .. placid on the surface but with so many undercurrents.
- Henry David Thoreau: Walden; or, Life in the Woods: What better book to read whilst in an isolated cottage on a remote island than a book written by a hermit about self-reliance, solitude, contemplation, and closeness to nature? Okay, so Thoreau actually lived on the edge of a town and a was a bit of poseur .. but it would be an apt read. I have only read (longish) extracts but Thoreau is both very noble and very, very entertaining (and a bit daft too).
- Iris Murdoch: The Sea, The Sea: I think I should get better acquainted with Murdoch. I read and loved The Bell and The Sea, The Sea is said to be her masterpiece. It is also a book about solitude, imagination and truths. An obvious choice, really.
- Mikhail Bulgakov: The White Guard: Both The Master and Margarita and The Heart of a Dog were hugely, hugely enjoyable reads (the former ending up as one of my all-time favourite reads, fact fans). The White Guard has been sitting on my bookshelf for the best part of a year. I really need to get around to reading it.
The first six books, then. The next six books will be posted tomorrow and the remaining six on Wednesday.
But what about the knitting? Between eighteen books, me sleeping a great deal and long walks, what sort of knitting should I bring? Six weeks .. that translates into two sweaters and a big shawl, surely? Ah, but I'm not so sure about that. I have two projects in mind. Funnily enough I will be writing about the first one tomorrow and the second one on Wednesday. Stay tuned.
Drinking Tea Will Muddle Your Brain
Sometimes I worry that Domestic Bliss has ruined my ice-cold demeanour and unsentimental outlook on life. To wit, I am sitting here with a lump in my throat after stumbling across this:
For me the most moving moment came when the family in front of me, comprising probably 4 generations of voters (including an 18 year old girl voting for her first time and a 90-something hunched-over grandmother), got their turn to vote. When the old woman left the voting booth she made it about halfway to the door before collapsing in a nearby chair, where she began weeping uncontrollably. When we rushed over to help we realized that she wasn't in trouble at all but she had not truly believed, until she left the booth, that she would ever live long enough to cast a vote for an African-American for president.
Then again I also found Make Art From Starbucks Junk with a really, really cool TIE Fighter and I was instantaneously reassured that despite lapses into sentimentality my inner self will remain a 12-year-old geek (with an ice-cold demeanour).
This morning I read Nancy Mitford's Love In A Cold Climate which reads like a funnier and far more grown-up version of Dodie Smith's I Capture The Castle (which left me completely cold, I'm afraid). I'm now off to find more of Mitford's novels as I think the brisk winds of October are best kept away by tea, knitting and books set in interwar England (Waugh as well, I think, in addition to Mitford). Hello, favourite bookshop, here I come.