Craftiness

I'm pleased that I finally made the time to do a few crafting things that I've wanted to do for a few weeks now. I went to a place in Birmingham recently, called Aston Hall. It was a typical tour through a country house, except this one was at night, and was by candlelight. It boasted the actors saying and doing things appropriate to 1640, and there was a physician, some lace makers, a few ladies' maids, some soldiers, a few kitchen staff, an artisan, and even a band (Diabolus, who are mighty fine).

The artisan was making wreaths the way they'd have been made at that time - which is by using various evergreen bits and pieces from the countryside, and binding them together, and hanging the finished product horizontally. I figured if an actor could do it, so could I. So I did.

And it turned out OK, I think. It's not so tough to do, but it takes time, and concentration. And you have to go outside in the rain and cold, and get the stuff. Which can also be nice, if you don't have whingeing children along with you. Although the eldest was the one who sighted the best crop of rose hips, so for that, I can forgive a bit of whingeing.

Then we made butter. Real butter. The kind you get when you put whipping cream into a jar, and then shake it until your arms hurt. For a while you think 'This is never going to work.' And then suddenly, it happens. It splits into buttermilk, and butter. You have to put it into a bowl, and rinse it with freezing cold water, and press out all the buttermilk. And then you have to salt it.

But let me tell you. The difference between store-bought butter, and butter you've made yourself, is vast. I cooked a risotto last night and used the butter we made, instead of olive oil. It was fabulous. I'm probably just reading into it, because I WANT to taste the difference. But the woman in the kitchen at Aston Hall told me to try an experiment, and bake two cakes, or two batches of cookies. Use store butter in one, and home made butter in the second. And then do a tasting. She said she pretty much guaranteed that the taste buds would choose the home made butter, hands down.

So that's next.

I think it's just the craving I have to make things, rather than buy them. while I like to go shopping and see what's out there, and I like having new things, I also really like knowing how things work, and why they work, and I like to see if I can do it myself. Most of the time, I can. I don't think I'll ever be able to do anything like coppice, or lay a hedge, or do any blacksmithing (although I'd sure try it if I had the chance to do it!), but I like trying out the traditional, analogue tasks to see what works, and how the whole process is put together.

It's probably also a little bit about having some extra knowledge in order to survive the Zombie Apocalypse. Not that I'll be able to hide a cow or a goat or a sheep in my boarded-up house when the Undead are walking the Earth. They'll either eat its brains, or it'll give me away. But hopefully I'll be able to milk it a few times before either of those things happen, and make some butter myself. For the toast I'll make over an open fire, while I try to survive on tinned tomatoes.

At least I'll have my wreaths to look at while I do.

Walking Behind Keyser Söze

Subjectivity has been on my mind lately.

In one way, it's helped me clarify a lot of things - especially about how I tend to view other people with regards to my own performance, or opinions, or general ways of existing. I have a bad habit of seeing things only in relation to myself, which can be an incredibly dangerous and stupid thing to do.

Generally speaking, most of the time we think that someone's angry at us, or thinking ill of us, etc., we're not even on their radar. It's something I learned a long time ago from a woman I used to know named Valerie. She used to suggest to me, when I'd complain to her that everyone was out to get me, that I sure had balls to think that I was so important that people would be thinking about ME above everything else they had to think about in their lives.

I love that idea. I love reminding myself that, for the most part, I'm just not that important. Somehow, it makes me feel better.

The new job is going well. At least I'm pretty sure it is. I'm enjoying the hell out of it, anyway, if that's anything to measure success by, which it probably isn't. But just the same, I get to Friday afternoon now, and think to myself, 'I've EARNED this weekend.' It's a nice feeling.

But the point is that there have been a lot of things going on where people are certain to have taken things personally, when there wasn't anything personal about the situation, or the task at hand. And there have been definite times when various people have dug in their heels and simply refused to do what was asked of them. And the funny part is that in the time spent in refusal and explanation of said refusal, the requested task probably could have been done twice over.

And all because someone thought that the situation was about THEM, instead of it being about the SITUATION.

********

Granny Söze knitted these.

There's a woman who lives in my village. She's a functioning human being, and she's got a job, and friends, and a schedule...normal. Except she's NOT. She's a person who, for whatever reason, came out wrongly. Her body isn't put together right. She speaks, but it's hard to understand her because of the way her mouth works. She wears mittens, not gloves, because her fingers aren't right. And she walks differently, because her legs don't work the way legs ought to work. They work just fine, but not properly.

And I see this woman just about every day - going about her business, commuting, joining in various community activities, cracking jokes with the bus driver and the train manager. And at the end of our journey, she gets off the bus, and says good bye, and goes home. And I walk behind her as she walks up the hill, and I see her go in her front door. And she does what I do - hangs up her jacket, puts her keys on the hook, opens her post, wonders what's for tea, and settles into her evening.

But it's all subjective, isn't it? I worry about getting older, and getting wrinkles, and trying to stay up to speed with what the 'kids' are doing. I worry about getting fat, about my escaping youth, about trying to be the mom/wife/employee/woman in the magazines adverts, or the IDEA of that person.

My neighbour probably worries about all that, too. But where I sit and think about how I'm never going to be the beauty on the big screen, or have the flawless face I wished I'd had when I was 21...I wonder about the bars we set ourselves. Does my neighbour sit and think that she'll never be able to walk like normal people? Does she wonder what it's like to have a face that's shaped so that she can talk without a speech impediment? While I'm sitting here thinking about how fat my ass is getting, I have to stop and get a grip on myself.

My legs work. My face is shaped so that my words come out correctly, even if what I say isn't the right thing sometimes. I can wear gloves AND mittens, because I've got two hands with long fingers. I can wear any shoes I like, because my feet are the same size as each other, and they've got the correct number of toes on each one.

Keyser Söze had the option that most people don't have. In the end, he straightened up his crooked body, walked away, effortlessly climbed into the back of a car, and disappeared.

But the rest of us don't have that option. We are who we are - and sometimes we can't just straighten up our crooked bodies and walk away. When I think about this, and I look at people every day, I realize that we're all struggling with some sort of thing -- we've all got our own versions of hands that fit only into mittens.

Captain Kirk

Kobayashi Maru? Yeah, I beat that.

Have you ever noticed that Captain James T. Kirk is (mostly) a man of action, but that he can be cerebral, too? And the reason he's the captain of the USS Enterprise is because of how he makes his decisions.

Oh, sure. He's reckless at times; he trusts his gut instinct; and he doesn't give a crap about your diplomatic precedence -- he's gonna shoot you a look that says 'I told you so' when you've ignored the warning about not beaming down to the planet's surface, and then when you're surprised to be told you've been chosen as a casualty and you've got 24 hours to report to a disintegration booth, he STILL saves your sorry ass.

But the point is that he's good at making decisions, most of the time. And by that, I mean USUALLY; like 99% of the time. He's THAT good.

Captain Kirk doesn't care two hoots if people like him or not (well, except the lay-deez). He can't be bothered to determine if what he's about to do might honk people off, or get the gossip mill turning. He just DOESN'T care. He does what he thinks is the right thing to do.

And I've been wondering a lot lately about the decisions that people make, and why they make those decisions. And I've been wondering about people who stay with a job/person/hairstyle/etc. because they're worried about what people may think if they DON'T stay.

I'm not suggesting that you throw it all away, or give it up to trek the planet in search of your SELF while your bank balance diminishes exponentially by the day, or while your family wonders what the hell happened to you when you went out for milk and never returned.

But what I AM suggesting is that maybe we can all try to be a little more true to ourselves, and maybe a bit more understanding of others, especially when we look at how people choose to live their lives. Sometimes the decisions that people make that seem hair-brained are pretty courageous. (I'm also aware that some decisions people make are stupid, selfish decisions, but that's for another post...)

People are afraid. Really, really, afraid. Afraid of change, being alone, the shit-eye, disapproval, less money, more responsibility, being stuck, having to move, trying sushi, bad guys, blah, blah, blah. We ALL are afraid. And it's OK to be afraid.

But it's also OK to say, 'the HELL with being afraid', and then bleaching your hair platinum blond, or throwing in the towel on the horrible relationship you've been in for a zillion years, or going to a yoga class even though you're the fattest person in the room. Sometimes it's just about making the decision. You can always decide tomorrow what you're going to do next.  Right now, it's just about making that first move, and deciding to DO something. You can always dye your hair back, or find a new boyfriend, or invest in your very own yoga mat tomorrow. Right now - just go for it. There is something YOU can do to affect your life for the better.

I think what I'm afraid of is waiting until the last minute to decide to do something. (NB: deciding to do something is good, even if it's at the last minute). But then I think about all those years where I'd have missed out on enjoying the fruits of making that one decision. It's the feeling I equate with climbing up the ladder of the enormously tall diving platform, and inching my way out to the edge, and realizing that I have to jump. I can't go back down; I've got to go OFF THE END...

Someone I used to know a long time ago used to just let out a huge, guttural 'COME ON!' and then dive into life. He made some seriously scary decisions, for him. And it got him into a lot of hot water, at times. But he was true to what he preached. And I admire that.

Kirk never lets on that he's afraid. You only see him sweat when he's been pummeling the baddie into submission when they're trying to take over his ship, or keep him from saving this episode's hot chick. You don't ever see the thin film of perspiration on his upper lip when he's faced with a situation that would make the rest of us shit our pants, and then bawl for our mommies.

But it's there. He's just as scared as the rest of us. The difference is, Jim doesn't let it get the best of him.

Kirk out.

Ship Ahoy

The countdown has begun. While I'm certainly going to miss the way that certain things have been, I'm also really looking forward to the way that things COULD be, because it's been a long time since I have anticipated something in this way.

I wonder, though, what it will be like when I'm presented with a blank slate? The 'tabula raza' aspect of what's about to happen is daunting at the same time that it's inviting; the unknown is supposed to be exciting - to provide the adrenaline rush that encourages movement forward.

While what I'm about to embark upon certainly isn't something that equates to my sitting down and have a quick but judicious read of The Art of War,  it has made me think about things that have, and haven't, motivated me in the past. It's also made me realize that I can be particularly immature about various things. While I'm convinced that part of this immaturity is something I come by genetically, I've done some work on trying to stifle those parts of my cell makeup that lend themselves to hysterical denial of responsibility of things that are truly my fault.

With this in mind, though, I do feel as though I have a small (but present) ability to perhaps look at what I'm about to do, and where I'm about to go, and make some decisions and choices about how I want to be perceived, how I want to function, and what I want to accomplish.

I'm rather sure that I'll never be a heavy hitter in any aspect of my life. But I'm looking forward with relish to sinking my teeth into some new things, and some new experiences, and to learning how to become a new person professionally.

I mentioned over the weekend to the person I love best in the world that, while I may be crap at lots of things, I can sure as hell cook.

I'd like to think that I'm going to be pretty darned good at doing what I'm about to set out to do, as well. It appears that I'm going to have some people who are very willing to help, teach, encourage, and support me. It's been a long time since I've felt that way.

We'll see how it all goes.