Hello, again.

I'm not sure what the frequency of me updating this old blog is anymore, but it's certainly not up to par with what a true blogger ought to have it as. I just know that I am one of those writers who only write and share when there is something worth writing and sharing. I like it that way.

So, what is it that I find worth writing and sharing today in the blogosphere?

My interests of late are scattered and include the usual activities of writing and reading, but I have acquired rather new interests that I think are worth sharing.

Knitting has become a huge part of my me time. I like to just sit there with my IPod on shuffle and just knit away, letting my mind wander until I have to look at the pattern again. The best part is that I'm making things that I know will be used by others, I'm learning new techniques and making things I never thought I'd make, and I am giving my mind a very good activity to occupy its free time with.

I mentioned before, I think, that I am also learning to crochet. I have improved somewhat, but I have yet to make anything, not even a scarf. When knitting gets too complicated, and it does these days considering the things I'm making, I take a break and bring out my crochet hook and practice single, double and triple crochets. It's relaxing and I imagine that one day I will be crocheting as good as I knit, but that is a way's away and I am taking my time with it and just having fun with it.

Sewing is also something I've picked up lately. I have managed to make a lovely skirt, which I've worn twice already, and a needle holder for my knitting needles. Of course, these things don't look polished and perfect, but the skirt is a piece of work I am especially proud of and find to be pretty damn good for a first try. The needle holder has its shortcomings, but it serves my needs and it is made to my specs, so I can't complain. I intend to make more things, considering the fact that like yarn, fabric is something one can become obssessed with, whether there is a project in mind or not, but I am organizing my time accordingly so I can focus on each activity as projects come up, otherwise it's chaos.

All of these activities, of course, make me feel more feminine than I've felt since I turned 10, when my princess dreams began to fade and the girls I was thrown in the midst of didn't share my love of fairytales and princesses. My girly disposition has resurfaced after lying dormant for entirely too long and I am diffusing it through activities that I associate with femininity. Of course there are plenty of men who knit, crochet and sew... nowhere is that more obvious than the abundance of men's names sewn to designer clothing labels. I don't want my written perception of femininity to act as a springboard for a long-winded discussion/debate about how society has wrong misinterpretations about gender roles, blah blah blah. I am simply stating that as a little girl I adored princesses, the color pink and wanted nothing more than to be a homemaker who would do all the things that a homemaker would do, and to me, that includes knitting, crocheting and sewing, and to me, is a form of femininity. Of course, that's not the only way to be feminine, but that aspect of this form of femininity is one that is the closest to my own idea of that characteristic. If another woman feels more feminine changing a tire or moving furniture... power to her, but that's not my own idea of femininity.

Going back to one of my favorite pastimes, reading, I am reading a wonderful book. The significance of this book is quite large, not only because it's a good book, but because of the subject matter. A People's History of Science. Miners, Midwives, and "Low Mechanicks", by Clifford D. Conner is the book that has hooked me and mesmerized me since I started reading it a few days ago. It is just what the title suggests, a history of how ordinary people shaped what we today consider an exclusive body of knowledge that only the academic and professional elite get to participate in. The idea that some people believe we are smarter today than our counterparts were hundreds and thousands of years ago is total and utter bologne. I don't think we're completely stupid nowadays, but we certainly have things easier than those who lived in the stone age and advanced to the bronze, then iron ages. I mean, those people had to figure stuff out completely with their brains, bare hands and sometimes their entire bodies. Just think of how many people had to die before it was common knowledge that a plant, for instance, was poison. What this book does is shine a light on how science was a means for survival, not just something to be practiced in a lab by people in white coats and latex gloves. I'm only on chapter two and I feel so much more enlightened about this subject, I can't imagine how my mind and ideas will expand once I read all 500 pages of this gem.

All in all, I am one happy woman with my reading, writing, knitting, crocheting and sewing. Now, if I could just practice all these things and travel the world, I think I could die happy and completely satisfied. Until next time, which could be God knows when!

Dracula, take two

It is rare that I read a book more than once, even if I absolutely love it and classify it as a favorite. There are so many books out there I want to read and discover unexpectedly, that I can't justify going back and reading a book I've already read. But, every once in a while I will revisit a book, an old friend, because it provides me comfort or it just simply suits my mood.

I am in the process of revisiting Bram Stoker's Dracula. It is one of my favorites. The first time I read it was almost five years ago and I was reluctant to read it because it is told through various characters' journal entries, letters and newspaper clippings. I thought it would be confusing and kind of annoying to keep switching back and forth, but once I started I found it rather easy to follow and enjoyed it quite a bit. I noted right away that there are significant differences from Francis Ford Coppola's movie adaptation, but I guess I didn't pay enough attention.

The second time around reading the book, I'm amazed at how a very complicated, detailed novel was condensed into a movie that stands on its own, never losing the story's original flavor of horror and romance. I almost always hate the movie adaptation of a book I like, but this time I'd say both forms are enjoyable and provide a certain flavor the other one lacks. I love a rarity such as this.

National Punctuation Day

It's National Punctuation Day. Celebrate with exclamation points, question marks, commas, apostrophes, colons, semi-colons, periods, ellipses, dashes, hyphens, parentheses, brackets and quotation marks. Go crazy, but make sure you use them properly!

Outgrowing my space?

I spent all day today tidying up my room, which I haven't tidied up in quite some time. When I say tidying up, I mean like major overhaul, where I throw away things that have been sitting in the same spot for entirely too long for no apparent reason.

It's amazing how much junk I've racked up since the last time I decided to get rid of what is basically just clutter without any value or use to me. It's the same every time. I get one of those big hefty bags after I fill up the waste basket in my room and start throwing away stuff without thinking about it. I eliminate thinking because if I actually gave it some thought I wouldn't get rid of anything and that would be counter-productive. But even with my resolve to just toss stuff in the bag without letting nostalgia get the better of me, I still end up with too much stuff.

So, what is this junk I'm speaking of? You name it, I've got it stored somewhere in my room. Mostly-blank notebooks, lone issues of magazines so old I have no idea why I'm saving them anymore, mostly-empty bottles of lotion, earrings I haven't worn since I turned twenty-five. That's just some of what's outside of my closet.

My closet needs a bull-dozer. It is full of clothes that are out of style, but are still in such good shape I don't have the heart to write them off, but I also don't wear them, because they're super-dated. There are also shoes. Tons and tons of shoes. Mountains of 'em sit on the floor of my closet. Being a shoe-a-holic is not only expensive, but it requires a lot of space to support that I don't have and haven't had for so long I've got shoeboxes sitting in a corner housing the overflow of my vice.

I kept thinking to myself as I went through all the junk that I am a slob who needs to learn how to be more tidy, but another thought kept interrupting that one. It just might be that I have as much stuff as anyone my age, maybe even less than someone my age, but it's the deficit of my own storage space that makes me look like a pack rat when I am really not that bad. At least I hope that's the only problem . . . .

Writing prompt for nincompoop

A nincompoop is a fool or simpleton. I’ve heard this word used by the older crowd, and it strikes me as one of those words you would yell out in frustration, like this kid's uncle does...

“You nincompoop!”

My uncle’s gruff voice rang out from the window overlooking the street, where if you were outside you could only see the tops of people’s heads moving inside. Summer was ending and the neighborhood was more alive than it was the first days of summer, so everyone heard the rumble. I threw my baseball glove down and ran inside. There was the smell of something Italian on the stove and the sound of papers rustling from below.

I took timid steps toward the stairs leading to the bottom level of the house and saw my uncle tearing apart the drawer he’d told me many times to stay away from. I’d wondered for years why he kept that drawer locked, keeping the key with him at all times and pulling the handle whenever he passed it to be sure it hadn’t been tampered with.