Spinster

I have been out on a couple of dates with a guy who’s established himself as one of those boys who prefers to be unavailable. I understand the feeling—it’s nice to not have a cell phone since it means that when I’m out I can’t be contacted. Not that my cell phone was ringing off the hook when I did have one, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, most of the time if someone has a cell phone they can ignore when they don’t want to talk, they usually have the conventions of call display and voicemail. Not this guy. He’s pretty much living in the ‘80s, or whatever decade it was before everyone had an answering machine.

I was talking to Aundra last night and we were discussing why he hadn’t called me, and she was asking why I hadn’t just left a message for him to call me back. When I told her about his lack of Caller ID and voicemail, there was dead silence on the other end of the phone. I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me, or had lost reception or something. Then I realized that she had been struck speechless and was just trying to process what I’d said. Sure enough, “I had no idea you could even get a cell phone without those things. Didn’t know they were optional…Where do you find these guys?” Dude, I don’t know but clearly, I have some kind of special radar for this shit. I’m pretty sure that only I would be able to find the one guy in Toronto who is so communicationally challenged. Although, Dave (Lorien’s boyfriend) not only doesn’t have a cell phone, he also doesn’t have a landline. Talk about frustrating. Luckily he’s a) totally in love with her and b) always at our apartment, so it’s very rare that she wants to get in touch with him and can’t and has to freak out that he doesn’t like her and she was imagining the chemistry and the next time she goes on a date she’ll have wrinkles. Which yeah, is ridiculous, but it’s my life and my obsession and I’ll develop a complex about it if it’s the last thing I do.

Princess Awesome, you’re the best! When I arrived home from a frustrating day at school and work, there was this fabulous package waiting for me with two wonderful books in it. Miracle in the Andes is written by one of the guys who got stuck in the mountains after the plane crash, as chronicled in Alive. Everyone remembers the story (most people probably remember the movie with Ethan Hawke, but it was a book first) because the survivors must resort to cannibalism to keep themselves going. I read the book many years ago and loved it. I am a sucker for graphic, gory details, especially when they describe something real, and Piers Paul Read, the author of Alive, is pretty generous with his account of the cannibalism that took place. When Kristen offered to send me the ARC of Miracle in the Andes, there was no way I could say no!
The Yarn Girls’ Guide to Simple Knits was an unexpected and very pleasant addition to the book package. I am an avid collector of knitting books and this is one that I don’t have. My friend Aundra has it and I’ve browsed through it many a time. Though the authors use some prohibitively expensive yarn for their designs, the patterns are clear and easy to follow, and the words of encouragement that the Yarn Girls give throughout the book are excellent. In particular, I would imagine that my friends who are relatively new to knitting will enjoy using it as a resource/cheerleader through their first sweater/tank top.

Kristen, thank you very much. I would like to send you a little something in return, so if you would email me your mailing address that would be great.

In other musings: I am so sick of school. I am finding it to be kind of difficult to juggle a full course load and 20 hours a week of work. I know that I signed on for the job and the classes, but inevitably I have to skip at least one class a week in order to get all of my assignments done. Not homework or reading, but actual assignments. I will be a very happy girl when these next few weeks are over!

Today was the Dean’s Tea at FIS, and it was the first that I have attended. I think it’s pretty obvious by now that I’m not much of a joiner. Never have been, probably never will be. It annoys me when people expect me to have organized extracurricular activities–I’m not into team sports, I don’t go to church, and I extend the non-involved attitude quite happily to school and work as well. I mean, people, my hobbies include knitting, spinning, and photography. How more loner can you get? However, the tea was really nice. I could only go for a few minutes cause I was at work, but I enjoyed myself. There was a vegan food theme, as apparently quite a few FIS students are vegetarian or vegan (myself not included) and one of the student council members thought it would be nice to share this common “food choice and way of life” with the rest of the students at the Faculty of Information Studies. The food was pretty good and though I definitely could never be a vegan and would probably struggle to be a true vegetarian, I think it’s good that there are a lot of very food-conscious people in my program.

Obviously, the vast majority of the people in the US–I don’t know about Canada–are not food-conscious in a healthy way. While vegetarianism and veganism are popular among some demographics, most Americans are meat-eaters–and proud of it! I almost never eat red meat, but it’s not for ethical reasons, really; it’s just cause I don’t like the taste. However, I recognize that there are numerous problems with a diet that is meat-heavy and I take that into consideration when making food choices. On the other hand, I have found that people who don’t eat meat can be really self-righteous about their eating habits. I have had several roommates over the years who have been varying degrees of vegetarians/vegans and more often than not, they tend to get up on their high…hmm. Well, it wouldn’t be a horse, now would it? Their high carrot? Celery stalk? I don’t know, whatever. They get a bit uppity about being a vegetarian. Not my current roommate, though, she’s pretty cool about it. I lived with these two hippies in Portland, though. They were the most uptight hippies I’ve ever met–no caffeine; no alcohol; they were on some Ayurvedic diet which meant they couldn’t eat garlic, onions, or mushrooms; organic everything; and they popped a million Chinese herbal supplements every day. I couldn’t stand them, even though they were the healthiest people I’ve ever met. I think people need to do things–almost everything–in moderation, and just cause you don’t eat meat or drink beer does not mean that you’re somehow better than the rest of us!

Stephanie and Alli knitting
Stephanie and Alli knitting some more

It’s an algebraic equation: put a group of knitters in a room with a bottle of wine and some yarn, and you’ve got yourself a party. Last night Lorien and I invited Alli and Stephanie over to teach Alli to knit and just hang out.

Alli hiding her knitting from the camera

Lorien knitting

Having taught myself and several others to knit, I’m always interested in who picks it up quickly and who doesn’t. I was definitely in the “did not pick it up quickly” camp–when Aundra and I decided to learn how to knit one day, we sat on my living room couch for hours with our Michael’s yarn (somehow I got it into my head that I should knit a pink scarf–pink!) and needles and our American School of Needlework “learn to knit” pamphlet, which I still have; and we must have sat there for five hours trying to figure it all out. When Aundra left she’d definitely gotten a handle on it, and though I don’t consider myself to be a competitive person by nature, the fact that Aundra had gotten it and I hadn’t really bugged me. I struggled with that stupid pink yarn until my fingers were sore from trying to knit into stitches that were so tight I couldn’t get the needle through them. My “scarf” turned into the world’s most lopsided potholder–straight on one edge and veering out dramatically on the other, complete with holes. Eventually, I switched to nicer yarn and made a scarf for my then-boyfriend, and that’s all it took. Once I’d been successful with one project I was hooked.

Most of the people who I’ve recently taught to knit have picked it up pretty quickly–my mom, Lorien, and now Alli–and I figure it must be because knitting is so much easier when you have someone there to show you what you’re doing wrong and how to fix your mistakes, and also because knitting is such a good social activity and doing it with friends and a bottle of wine is immensely enjoyable. That said, though, I’ve always felt that since almost everything I know about knitting I’ve taught myself, there’s basically nothing that I can’t do, if you just give me enough time and alcohol. If I could wrestle with that squeaky pink acrylic yarn and still manage to master garter stitch, I can do cables and lace and sweaters, no problem.

Last night was excellent, and I hope Alli sticks with knitting. With her more-mathematical-than-mine mind (how’s that for alliteration?) and ability to pick things up quickly, she might turn out to be one of those savant knitters who comes up with crazy stitch patterns and color combinations. Likewise, I’m stoked that Stephanie taught herself to knit, and that she’s willing to figure out the things she doesn’t know on her own, cause I think that having the confidence to make mistakes and undo them yourself is a pretty powerful tool–in knitting as in life. Lorien is a perfectionist and wants everything to look smooth and even; as a result, her finished objects look polished and in no way do they reveal that she’s been knitting for six months. There’s no right or wrong way to do this particular craft, and though each of my friends has a different approach to knitting, that approach works uniquely for them.

I’m wearing a green skirt with frogs on it (not snakes, unfortunately) and green earrings. And I’m going to drink tonight. If that’s not a St. Patrick’s Day celebration, I don’t know what is.

I live in a somewhat funky part of town, and the major street in my neighborhood has tons of bars and restaurants and, as I was walking home from work this afternoon, I noticed that people had already started the revelry. It was approximately 5:15 and people were out wearing green in full force, already spilling out of bars, and already stumbling drunkenly down the street. I went out last night and I’m pretty tired, but man seeing those drunkies definitely inspired me to go out tonight and see Toronto at its worst (and by worst I mean best).

My mother has a fascination with all things Irish, including herself (she’s something like 1/8 Irish which would make me 1/16 Irish, which I guess counts for something). She called me at like 6:00 this evening to wish me a happy St. Patrick’s day. The conversation went something like this:

Mom (Keep in mind that this woman was born in upstate New York, lives in Miami, and has been to Ireland once.): Tash? Do you know what day it is, lassie?

Me: Hi, Mom. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Mom: You better be celebratin’, my girl. You know you’re Irish.

Me: Yeah, Mom, I know.

Mom: You’ve got that Irish blood runnin’ through your veins. Are you wearing green?

Me: No, I’m not.

Mom: For shame, lassie, for shame.

Me: Well, I’ll wear green if I go out tonight, how about that?

Mom: If you were here I’d give you a Guinness.

1. If I am cool enough to hit on you and give you my number (which clearly I am) and you are cool enough to call me and set up a date, you MUST give me more than two hours’ notice. And even though we talked on Tuesday and said that we’d go out “around 8 or 9″ on Thursday, you STILL have to call me and give me two hours’ notice. Why? Because…

2. I am SO not going to take a shower until you call, and it takes at least an hour from the time I get in the shower to the time that I’m ready to go–at which point you’re about to write me off as “too high maintenance” (which, let me assure you, I am not).

3. Even if I do give in and take a shower before you call, I am obviously not going to get dressed (even though I’ve known for two days what I’m going to wear: my cool black t-shirt with the skulls on it to show you that, despite me being four years older and therefore at least four times cooler than you, I am not too uptight for you; tight jeans to show off my assets; and cute black boots instead of trainers cause I don’t want to look too Hot Topic high school goth).

4. Because I was so fucking ballsy last week when I asked you your name and gave you my number, you are SO NOT ALLOWED to ruin the high that I’ve been riding on for days by being too fucking lazy to call me at a proper time to confirm our date.

5. Just cause Thursday is considered the beginning of the weekend for students, and it is Thursday and I am a student, does not mean that I don’t have to go to work tomorrow and be alert–so if you call me at 10 tonight to hang out, the answer is no.

Since I’m apparently on an environmental kick–and I am an environmentalist by nature–I’d like to share with my loyal readers my favorite author, David James Duncan. He lived in Oregon for most of his life before moving to Montana; the Pacific Northwest is the setting for most of his writing; his capacity for storytelling is phenomenal: these are not necessarily criteria for being my favorite writer, but they certainly don’t hurt. He has the ability to infuse each sentence with beautiful language and each scene with palpable emotion, yet somehow he manages to avoid coming across as saccharine. I read The Brothers K first, and fell completely in love. The Brothers K and The River Why are his novels; River Teeth is a collection of fiction and non-fiction stories and essays about nature, specifically rivers; and My Story as Told by Water is a collection of non-fiction essays chronicling Duncan’s experiences with the rivers of Oregon and Montana. I find him to be at his best when writing about nature…My Story contains some of the most eloquent, beautiful, and heartfelt accounts of human interaction with nature that I’ve ever read, and in The River Why Duncan somehow melds the coastal environment of Oregon with the power of romantic and familial love. He makes no attempt to hide his love for nature, and he makes no excuses for the myopic and greedy destruction of it.

I’ve read a couple other works of both fiction and non-fiction that could fall under the genre “environmental literature.” The Last Child in the Woods comes to mind, as does Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, though I wouldn’t normally consider Bryson to be an environmental writer. I think that the interaction between humans and nature is fascinating (Peter Matthiessen’s The Snow Leopard and Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild come to mind), particularly in light of global warming.

If anyone has any good environment-themed books that they’ve read lately, I’d love suggestions!

Last night I bought this, even though I don’t need it. Why don’t I need it, you ask? Because I already have 3 1/2–no wait, 4 1/2–spinning projects that need to be worked on. But my roommate wants to learn to spin, so she very bravely bought two batts and I figured that while she was at it, I might as well buy more too.

Sometimes, when I’m really bored, I like to go onto Friendster and see what people from high school are up to. I realized last night when I was taking a break from studying (a break that lasted 2 hours), that I went to high school with some ridiculously attractive people. Maybe I’m biased cause I spent time with these people every day, and you tend to find those you know more attractive than those you don’t, but I’m pretty sure that when you’re in school with models and winners of beauty pageants it’s safe to assume that other people would find these kids attractive too. I was talking to a few of my friends and they said that their high school peers weren’t very hot, so I wonder what it is about my school… well, the hotness probably isn’t limited to only Palmetto Senior High. Maybe Miami has more hot teenagers than most places? Maybe the gene pool is more diverse, with the influx of people from the Caribbean and Central and South America, and so people are more exotic-looking than in someplace like Sioux Falls, SD?

Now that I’ve indulged my shallow side, let’s talk about the book I’m reading. It’s called The Weather Makers by Tim Flannery and it’s awesome. It’s about how humans have caused global warming and climate change. Flannery supports the idea that everything on earth, including us, is part of the same system (called “Gaia,” the mythological name for Earth), as opposed to the reductionist worldview, which states that human actions can occur in isolation and therefore, we are not responsible for changes in weather patterns and climate. The increase in CO2 in the atmosphere (a result of our dependence on fossil fuels) is responsible for a multitude of climatic changes (hurricanes, ice caps melting, coral reefs dying) and, if we don’t do something about it soon, we are going to destroy life on earth as we know it. I don’t have the most scientific mind but I am finding this book to be really easy to understand, and sooo interesting. Flannery may be preaching to the choir, as the people who will read his book probably already think along the same lines as him, but he’s saying something that desperately needs to be heard.

Clearly, I got a hair cut (and maybe a little bit of color–maybe). At first, I was convinced that I now look like Chrissie Hynde and Melissa (the best stylist ever!) thought I looked like Emily from Metric and also Mena Suvari but I couldn’t find pictures of her new hair. Now I think maybe not so much Chrissie Hynde (but your music still rocks, Chrissie!).

Anyway, I think I like the cut but I’m not totally sure.

I’ve somehow found time in my busy schedule to knit and spin, and here are the results:

86 rows on my sweater

My latest Corriedale:

I know that the quality of the last two pictures isn’t that great, but it’s really annoying cause I can’t seem to get the color of the wool right. No matter what conditions I take the pictures in, it always comes out looking more silvery than it is. The reason that I chose to post a couple of less-than-sharp-focus pictures is that I thought the color looked the most accurate of the dozen pictures that I took. I guess I don’t take digital photography very seriously. I am a decent black-and-white fine art photographer and I use a medium format SLR camera–but I use it for my “real” photography. Digital just isn’t real to me. I love having a digital camera but mainly because it’s convenient, not because I think that the quality of the photos in any way rivals that of film photography. Plus, I love the b/w printing process so much that I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel the same way about sitting in front of a computer pushing buttons. Sorry to be a traitor to the digital revolution (and I know it’s ridiculous that I’m using my blog as a soapbox for it) but that’s how it is.

In other news, my friends and I went to the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) yesterday evening cause it was free. I have to say, free museums are the best. I tend to get exhausted by the information and sensory overload of museums, so it was nice to just look at a couple of exhibits and leave. Having never been to the ROM before the construction began, I don’t know how it used to be, but I take it the exhibits were much more extensive. As it is, their displays did seem a bit anemic, though I did like the Evolution of Style. It was really cool–they set up rooms, I guess they would be the equivalent of our living rooms, or whatever room people use to entertain guests, reflecting decorative and furniture style from the medieval era to the modern era. The baroque one was hilarious and way over the top. I definitely liked the rococo style–well, i guess I liked everything from baroque to the modern period, but skipping victoriana. Charles Rennie Mackintosh was represented, which was awesome. He’s like the son of Glasgow–he was an artist and designer in Glasgow around the turn of the 19th century (or is it 20th–whenever the 1800s became the 1900s) and Glasgow loves him. As Erin would say, Mackintosh pretty much designed the font of Glasgow. He designed the University of Glasgow School of Art, which is beautiful and awesome. The university owns the Charles Rennie Mackintosh house, which they turned into a museum, and while I was studying there I went and visited it. Anyway, it was cool to see Scotland represented here in Toronto.