Attention span of a gnat

Over the course of the last few years, my yarn stash has been slowly reproducing in the dark confines of my closet. Not only are the skeins reproducing; the started but not yet completed projects also seem to be multiplying. Until I try to organize my closet, it's easy to forget about them. I tried organizing my closet tonight.

A sampling of a few of the evening's finds:

• A latch-hook rug that I made... a few years ago. I remember the cat claiming it every time I set it down, leaving me to plan to use it as a rug in one of her favorite spots to curl up in. (Spoiled? Nuh uh...) The only thing left to do? Work the edges under. Of course, while quite simple, that's a very tedious task. I don't do well with boring. So I chucked it in the closet and forgot about it.
• A started black chenille shawl with my lovely J bamboo hook shoved in it (so that's where it went). It's a simple stitch, fairly mindless once you get into it. Good for spacing out to as I watched something entertaining. In fact, I started it while watching an episode of Dr. Who. For those enquiring minds, it was the episode with the Tenth Doctor and Rose, where they encounter werewolves, monks, and Queen Elizabeth. Since I don't recall watching any other episode whilst working on the poncho, that probably means I put ~ 45-50 minutes into the project before abandoning it.
• Another started poncho, this one in a black novelty yarn that was soft, fuzzy, and had little tufts of primary colors in it. The yarn was a clearance purchase, rounded out by an ebay purchase to meet the pattern requirements. I started the poncho while on a family vacation, probably about 5 or 6 years ago. That was a wretched summer with wicked heat, not great for working with sweaty hands and a fuzzy yarn, nor was it great for furtive spurts of crocheting in rare moments of uninterrupted quiet. I didn't get very far, and the only time I picked it up since then was when the K hook I needed for another project fell out as I moved something else.
• A started scarf in red, white, and black novelty yarn, meant to go with my black winter coat. The receipt purchase date is November 2006, but I remember prowling multiple Hobby Lobbys for a few weeks before that to find the exact colors I wanted. I was not so adventurous in my crocheting ~4 years ago, nor did I have much experience in following written instructions or working with novelty yarn, and the scarf gave me fits. Stitch definition was an issue, and that didn't work so well with a pattern that required increases and decreases in certain places to create a ripple effect. I pitched it all in a bag, tossed it in the closet, and moved on to the next shiny thing to catch my eye.
• A started cotton thread mesh market bag. I tossed this one in the closet while cleaning the clutter from my desk. It'd probably been idling on my desk for a few months, sometime in 2009. (I know this because I got the pattern from my 2009 crochet pattern a day calendar.) I started it in the summer since summer is farmers' market season, and a reusable bag is perfect for such shopping, and we were hitting the farmers' markets fairly regularly.
  
• Another started market bag, navy blue, started an abadoned sometime in the last few months. It also fell prey to the "clean one area by cluttering another, i.e. the closet" method. Honestly, I was actually thinking of tearing it out since it wasn't far along, and I wasn't too impressed with the pattern; it's teetering precariously on the edge of either contributing to the unfinished queue problem or the yarn stash problem. I may just toss a coin or something.
• A colorful shawl in an amazingly soft but obnoxiously colored yarn that I impulse purchased and began work on during another family vacation. I hesitate to include it here since I was beginning the process of frogging it... but in typical Twit fashion, I abandoned that midway, too.
  

I can remember where I was and what I was doing as I started these projects, which leaves me little excuse for having forgotten them, but there ya go. If it's out of sight, it's out of mind. End of story. However, if I am reminded, I can remember for a little bit at least.

So here's the plan. I'm a little... overcommited with projects right now (two projects for a swap, a tunic, a purse for a friend, a pair of fingerless gloves, and next on the agenda, a baby blanket for a friend who's expecting her first). But when I finish one or before I'm allowed to begin another, I'll finsh one of the above projects, most likely the scarf, which will go with my new red winter coat. That way, at least, I can make a dent in both the yarn stash and the unfinished projects queue.

...that is, assuming I don't abandon another project in the meantime...

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Now playing: Deb Talan - My Favorite Coat
via FoxyTunes

Makeover time!

It's getting to be close to that time of year where I take stock of my life and usually find that I've fallen short of my personal goals. I daresay a full-blown existential crisis is around the corner.

It's time to make change in my life since other changes aren't happening fast enough, so I've started going to the rec center on campus, which I have free access to and have only just activated in five years of employment there...

...and I overhauled my blog layout for the first time since its beginning.

There's a new one

I have had increasingly less to say about teaching as time goes on, due in large part to few things striking me as particularly novel anymore. If you factor out the semester I took off, this is the start of my fourth year of teaching; with the time off accounted for, it's the latter half of my third year.

Even the more egregious student behavior seems blase after you've seen it a few times.

That said, never before yesterday have I been in the middle of the class, lecturing, no less, writing on the board, and been interrupted by a student coming into my classroom asking for directions. From me.

At first, I thought she might have been one of my students, straggling in very, very late, an hour into a 75-minute class. She looked at me expectantly, like she had a question, and granted, I do not readily recognize student faces yet, so I asked what she needed. She asked where to find a location for a room and building I did not recognize as being on the campus. I was a little surprised by the interruption of class for directions, so instead of telling her we were in the middle of class, I instead said I didn't recognize the location. She pulled out her planner and showed me the class name, room, and time she was looking for.

"Oh," I told her. "That's this room. In half an hour."

"OK," she said, and walked right back out.

I have to give that class credit for not bursting into laughter as I would have been tempted to do were I watching the proceedings. Still, this incident is one of several signs I've been seeing that seem to suggest a more oblivious student population than previous semesters. I may have more stories yet.

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Now playing: On The Last Day - At The Breaking Of The World
via FoxyTunes

Sets of three, leave them be

My semester's gotten off to a rough start. Teaching two different classes on two different campuses on different days has extended the first day's madness to first two days' madness.

I'm also starting to wonder if three is an unlucky number for me, which is a bit saddening. It could be a bit of identification, but I've always been partial to odd numbers. Until this week, I quite liked three.

The first three-related mishap pertained to my syllabi. I had campus #1's syllabi copied off and was beginning to staple them when I realized I had run off too many copies; no sweat, thought I. I shall put the extras in a separate stack. I was proud of myself, even, for having caught and corrected my mistakes.

Until I realized that on my way out in the morning, I had grabbed one class's syllabi... and the stack of unstapled extras. That one took a bit of last-minute sense-talking and reassuring from my mentor to correct the problem, but I got over it and had a more or less decent day after that.

My second three-related woe follows a parallel track. The item in question this time was a set of keys. On Monday, I picked up my keys from campus #2; at the time, I was borrowing my mother's car while mine was in the shop. Once I had my car back, I left her the keys on her dresser. It was one of three sets of keys that were in my purse--my car and home keys, my office keys, and the borrowed car keys.

Yes, by this time you probably guessed it--I left my mom the office keys and still had her car key. Luckily, I was able to throw myself upon the mercy of both the department secretary and my officemate to get around the inconvenience, but I sure felt dumb. The car keys, also, were a spare set and so caused no inconvenience there.

I swear, I am developing all the scatter-brained professorial tendencies and none of the accompanying wisdom and stature.

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Now playing: Death Cab for Cutie - Someday You Will Be Loved
via FoxyTunes

Selective attention to detail

My out-of-town company asked last week to be taken to the library, that is, if the library was still open at the time. I glanced at my watch--shortly before 7 in the evening. The library is open until 9 p.m. Monday through Thursday, so yeah, I said, the library is open.

We got there to find a closed library.

I was absolutely correct in my memorization of the library's hours, and I can recite from memory my library card numbers for two of the public library systems; however, I had missed the memo that it was not Thursday, as I had thought, but Friday.

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Now playing: Emilie Autumn - Misery Loves Company
via FoxyTunes

The art of conversation

What I am about to say will probably sound cynical. So be it. I do offer the disclaimer that I am not stating this as absolute fact nor am I stating it as applicable to 100% of conversations, merely 98%. Give or take. You know these conversations--the ones you do to be polite. Ready? Here goes.

The art of conversation lies not in how much you can say but in what you do say. In fact, the less you speak, the better.

The art of conversation lies in turning all your conversation toward the other person. Few people really want to get bogged down in the banalities of what you've been up to or what you think on an issue, regardless of whether they ask for said information. Do not assume that "How are you?" is an inquiry of your general state of wellness; it is merely the set-up for "Fine. And how are you?" which is an infinitely more suitable conversation topic than your domestic stresses or flare-up of rheumatism.

Listen with rapt attention to how poor Fluffy had to be put down, how your acquaintance's boss is an ass, and how his or her classes are going. Ask about his or her fondest Fluffy memory, the details of said boss's ineptitude, and whether acquaintance's profs are difficult. Follow up with appropriate croons of sympathy, appropriate righteous indignation at the gall of some people, and appropriate reassurances that you're certain this will be the semester to regain that 3.5 (or 2.5 or 2.0) GPA.

Does the above sound taxing? No worries; you needn't respond with full questions to each and every question or piece of trivia. Nod, smile, or even make noncommittal responses that suggest rapt interest. As a rule of thumb, consider the 37-1 rule. For every 37 words your acquaintance utters, supply one of assent or encouragement. They needn't be spaced at exact intervals; use your discretion to determine when response is required, and if you're damn good, when such prompts assist in the dramatic arc of the unfolding life saga.

Use the above advice, and I guarantee that your social acquaintances will find you a wonderful conversationalist. Just be careful lest they seek you out. Greatness has a cost, and the cost of conversational greatness coupled with cautious politeness is the danger of many lost hours. People can talk for hours about themselves*.

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Now playing: Thrice - The Lion and the Wolf
via FoxyTunes

* - Says the blogger. At least I admit to it.

Dream on

I don't remember many of my dreams, and I don't generally use this blog to reflect over dreams. Last night's, though, seemed strangely relevant and ironic given my infrequent posting here as of late.

It was some sort of action-packed nightmare involving my having been kidnapped and then having escaped, rather narrowly, I might add. Like any sensible person who reads a bit of sci fi, I knew it was some vast conspiracy with perhaps even the government behind it. In spite of being out of shape in real life, I kept up a good run in my dream, across town, in and out of neighborhoods I wouldn't otherwise venture into, through shops even, dodging and swerving to avoid my captors. At some point, one person on my tail caught up to me and made it clear that they were letting me get away, but I'd have to keep a low profile so that the evil corporate and/or government entity wouldn't find me.

As I went off, I remember thinking over all the things I'd have to give up in my fresh start, including my blog. Clearly they would be monitoring my blog, so I'd have to start a new one and find some way for my readers to be able to find me.

So if I vanish, it's not personal, 'kay? It's just my past catching up to me, and I'll give some notice for you--and only you, dear readers--to come find me.

Define "problem"

I knew I had a lot of yarn; shoot, I haven't seen the closet floor in months. The system of organization I had was "meh" at best--lots and lots of craft store bags with different types of yarn. So I bought a bin. A big bin. A 95 quart bin.

Ayup. That's about most of it. (Minus about 10 skeins, a bunch of odd balls, and 5-7 started projects.)

On a light note

I had been avoiding Sinfest before the election because I got tired of the politicking. I went back a couple weeks later to see if it had gotten better; it hadn't. Tonight, on a whim (and as one last diversion before heading back to the grading stack), I checked again to see if what had been one of my favorite two web comics was back to its old self.

Ah, yes, much better:

Puts things right in perspective :).

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Now playing: Brand New - The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows
via FoxyTunes

"What you don't know could hurt you"

So proclaimed a headline in a religious community newsletter the other day. The article came about 10 years too late to do me any good, but I now know of the dangers lurking on the Internet.

As a responsible blogger, it behooves me to pass these on before you too while away too many hours on the best timesuck since Tetris.

I originally intended to do that clever-bloggy-post-excerpts-and-add-witty-commentary thing, but, um, the wit's not with me tonight. And the article writes its own punchlines; the writer, I'm guessing, actually went online all of maybe one time. I leave all grammatical idiosyncrasies intact, and no, in case you are wondering, it's not written by children or adolescents.

One of the most attractive reasons for the popularity of these electronic landmines is that the person who is using them can remain totally anonymous. You have no real idea who is on the other side of the screen. It could be a child molester or a 5 year old.

and

The other totally dangerous place [besides chat rooms] is YouTube. This is a website where people can post what ever video they made or find so other people can view. I hate it. I don't hate the idea and the application but I hate the way it is done. For example, Go search for a topic and you will get few interesting videos to watch. Click on one and watch it, and when you are don the application pops up few "similar" videos. So you watch few more. Every time you click on one it gives you more. It is like a drug addict, "Just One More, Pleeeease". What is also bad about it is you have no idea what comes up next. You could start with few cute videosabout animals and end up with a raunchy and totally inappropriate sexually filled video. And this is available for EVERYONE including children without any supervision or the least amount of decency what so ever.

Heh. Love the last line. Children without supervision and decency definitely shouldn't ever be introduced to such things. Of course, that's hardly the responsiblity of Youtube or chatroom moderators, now, is it?

This is all, of course, brought to you by the same folks who are experts on the evils of Harry Potter without ever having touched the books. They're completely out of touch with the very people they should be reaching, if the dangers of the books or the Internet are as drastic as they make them out to be, and no number of "totally"s in an essay like that is going to make the least bit of difference.

Spoiled? What's that mean?

There were two conversations going on concurrently this evening.

One family member was complaining about a wrenched knee. Meanwhile, I was on the floor with the cat. "She's got a knot [at the scruff of her neck]," I said to no one in particular, "like maybe she was tense when the vet gave her the shots." The cat tensed up beneath my probing fingers. "Poor baby. Does that hurt?" I asked (the cat. Duh).

"You should try the heating pad," came the advice.

"For the cat?" I asked.

Well, yeah, if a human is hurtin' and a kitty is a-hurtin' the heating pad should definitely be used on the feline.

....Aaand, posts like this warrant my starting new tag categories. I cannot guarantee they will always be used concurrently, but I think both shall be useful for future posts.