Loose Ends

I’ve been frustrating myself all year so far, trying to push through exhaustion and work drama to start creating again. It hasn’t been going well.

I finally put some time aside to write a new post yesterday, and ended up staring at my wall for two hours.

And then I was hungry.

And then I needed to pee.

And then I was cold.

And then I gave up writing, bundled up in my blanket, and took a nap.

This blanket, I made for myself three years ago as an anchor piece for my then goal of moving out of my uncle’s house and getting my first place on my own.

I was an avid user of Pinterest at the time, and envisioned the snazziest interior decorating in my dream space, and everything would be yellow and gray, clean and contemporary.

I crocheted this blanket over the course of a couple months and through a rewatch of three seasons of 30 Rock. It’s roughly six feet tall and wide, and it reminded me to save up every day I saw it draped across my bed.

I finally got my apartment, moved out, and it has been the staple piece of the house for the past two and a half years. But I realized something yesterday.

I never finished that blanket.

There’s always that one part of your passion that you hate to do. Art isn’t all fun and sunshine, it is actual work sometimes. And when it comes to knitting and crocheting, I absolutely detest sewing in ends when I’ve completed a project.

It’s arguably the most important part. The piece isn’t finished until you’ve sewn in the ends. It’s so crucial, it’s a common figure of speech.

Tieing in/up the loose ends.”

Where else where that have come from if not the fiber arts? I hate it though. I’m far from the only one, but I sure feel like the only one so hellbent in just leaving piles of old projects around that would otherwise be complete and ready to sell, should I just sew in the ends.

I’ve been using this blanket for the past three years with strands of yarn sticking out of every corner where the colors change, just ignoring the fact that my work is incomplete. Just acting like nothing is wrong with it. Glossing over my longstanding lack of follow-through.

You know how the question stands, does life imitate art, or does art imitate life? I’ve always found consistencies between my creative processes and my life happenings.  I feel like through this blanket, I have hexed my own life.

 

Why can’t I get a coherent thought on paper? Why do I have more drafts than published articles on this site? Why does it take me longer than two hours to put together one post? It shouldn’t take a whole day, a whole week, a whole month for one post! Why am I so scatterbrained?

This blanket was my anchor. It was my motivation to step into the next chapter. But I didn’t even finish it. Because I was too lazy. Because I didn’t feel like doing it.  But it was my first step. I brought the bad energy of sloth into my house and life with that shoddy first step.

Nothing gets finished.

I’m too tired to care.

All my plants are dead.

And I just keep wrapping up in this frayed blanket, wondering why. Wondering when it will get better.

Life imitates art. At least it seems to in this case. And I need to tie up some loose ends. A lot of loose ends. A lot of stupid pieces of thread all over the place, driving me insane and disturbing my qi.

I’m getting my qi back, one thread at a time. I’m 10 down so far, and when I’m done I’ll post a picture of the finally-finished blanket. And then we’ll see if I warded off the lazieness out of my house so I can write more frequently, not kill my new plants, and get my other creative endeavors rocking. I’m knocking out three strands of yarn per day, and I should be done in a couple weeks.

 

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The Most Unnecessary One-Sided Two Year Standoff

I occasionally view my life as a cinematic experience, with each day or notable experience being another episode. Most of these episodes are partly based in reality, and partly whatever my imagination runs with based on that experience. I can usually tell the difference.

Usually..

But, sometimes I get lost in the dramatic and end up with an arch nemesis.

No matter how many times I remind myself that I’m getting carried away in the weirdness that is my own head, and that it is, in no way, representative of real life, I still didn’t let this go. For two whole years.

So, here goes.

It always starts with a guy, doesn’t it? While this story is ridiculous, it begins pretty typically. Well, kind of.

So there was this guy.

And I decided that I needed to know this guy, because this guy was really talented and I liked his face. Due to his profession(DJ) and his aforementioned likable face, I figured he got approached by women pretty often.

Probably attractive women.

Women who don’t dress like they live underneath City Hall.

Women who don’t act like their socialization was exclusively left up to playing The Sims growing up.

I needed to stand out, is what I’m saying. In a way that didn’t rely on my neglected looks, social ineptitude, or age, because I was twenty and couldn’t lurk at his parties. I needed a different direction.

So I knit him a hat.

I know right? Genius.

I knit a hat for him and two members of his crew. I also ended up selling one to a DJ in San Francisco and a local event promoter. I got a nice little 15 minutes of Instagram fame, twas fun. Anyways!

I have this thing… where I make a knitted good, give it away, and then obsess about its condition constantly.

Did I tie in the ends correctly? What if it unravels and falls apart? What if it’s not big enough for their head? What if it SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTS? Why don’t I see them wearing it? Did they like it? A pack of coyotes took it, didn’t they? Or a dingo ate the beanie. I can make it again, y’know. I can fix it! I don’t mind. Just let me know! Just, I just need to know where it is, how it’s doing, if it’s happy, if it’s getting ample sunlight and riboflavin, I don’t know. I…I just need to know if it’s okay. IS IT OKAY?

I got to hand deliver one hat to likable-face person, and he was happy. We selfie’d together while he wore it. He tagged me in posts of him wearing the hat online in the weeks following. Everything was cool. I was at ease. 1 hat down.

A friend delivered the next hat for me. He recounted the giving away of the hat, and I was again tagged in a post online of the beanie with an accompanied thanks. Everything was cool. I was at ease. 2 hats down.

Conflicting schedules prevented a proper exchange with the receiver of the last one. So when I saw online of an event for Record Store Day, I decided to go and deliver the hat there. He wasn’t there when I arrived, and I had to leave because I forgot about a prior engagement. I left the beanie with the store clerk and left.

I never heard about the hat, nor did another opportunity to meet ever spring up. Everything was uncertain. I was not at ease. 2 hats down. ONLY 2 HATS DOWN. TWO HATS DOWN OUT OF THREEand a growing paranoia that the third one was probably on fire somewhere.

Flash forward to Summer 2014. There was a free concert in Rittenhouse Square, and I was working with one of the performing artists. A lot of friends and music-y people came out. It was quite the affair. Until…

So I’m standing around with my uncle, waiting for everything to start. A friend walks up and says hey. We chat for a while. And then, hwalks up. The receiver of the third hat. Yeah, did you think I was still talking about Likeable-Face Person? No, no, forget that guy. If this story were about him, it would make too much sense.

So he says hi to our friend, and our friend introduces him to my uncle.

I am standing in between my uncle and our friend. Like, in the middle of the two. Dead center. Note this. And he is standing directly in front of the three of us.

He shakes hands with my uncle. And I’m kind of just waiting for a quarter of a millisecond of eye contact so I can introduce myself like, “Hey nice to formally meet you, I made you that hat and stuff.” Like…you wouldn’t just interject to introduce yourself in the middle of something you weren’t part of, right? I’m too socially remedial to know for sure, but I’m pretty sure you wait for some kind of an “in.” I was waiting for that “in.” But no. That “in” never happened.

He looks back over to our friend and says, “Well good seeing you, man,” AND WALKS AWAY.

I told you I was right in between my uncle and our friend, right? So he meets my uncle and then shifts his gaze right past me to say bye to our friend. AND WALKS AWAY, I REITERATE.

………..

Huh?

Am I… visible?

Can ANYONE see me?

Am I even really here? I’m here, right? Panic set in. I poked my uncle and waved my arms frantically in his face, “CAN YOU SEE ME? DID YOU FEEL THAT?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“SO YOU DID??? It’s just HIM then! He… he shunned me.”

Shunned.

But why? Was I hard to see? I’m six feet of person, there’s no way. Did he reach his meeting-people quota for the day after meeting my uncle? OH MY GOSH, the hat probably caught fire. Or he broke it. Or it grew sentience and left to live its own life. Or maybe he never got it. The clerk kept it for himself and never said anything about it and he thought I was lying when I told him I left it at the record store for him. He thinks I’m a liar. His head is probably still cold…in the middle of summer.. Oh my gosh I could have fixed all of this if he just said something. But he shunned me. Shunned. 

It could have just ended there. I could have let it go because it wasn’t like I was going to see him often enough for it to matter. It would have just been one of many awkward interactions you have in a lifetime to never recall again, as is life.

But no. The next day I scroll through my Instagram feed to see a video clip of the show from his account. I managed to see myself in the background among the crowd. Y’kno, standing dead center in between my uncle and our friend. Very clearly not invisible. Relatively easy to see and difficult to shift a gaze right past and whatever. I posted a comment like, “Hah I see myself in the background, great night” or something like that.

No reply.

Shunned again. Digitally shunned. It was official, this was no mistake. He hated the hat. He must have set it on fire himself, I thought.

My 21st birthday rolls around, and I start hitting all of the parties these guys throw that I had been missing out on all this time. I mean I’m not so crazy, guys. I knew none of this was real outside my mind. So when I started going out, I had full intention of finally introducing myself and becoming friends IRL. Yeah, side note: We were Facebook friends and followed each other on Instagram since I made the first hat, like…this was all after that. Another post for another day but those don’t translate over to real life very smoothly for me, which brings us to this debacle.

There were maybe two or three instances where I was chilling out at a party and was like, Yup I’m gonna formally meet this dude tonight so this can stop being weird and everything is gonna be coolin’ and yeah. And as I approach or see him coming up to the bar where I’m sitting, ready to tap him and say hi or whatever, SOMETHING HAPPENS WHERE HE STRAIGHT UP SWERVES ON ME AND TALKS TO SOMEONE ELSE JUST. BESIDE. ME.

SHUNNED. again and again.

learned hopelessness

I was just never going to meet him. I mustered up all the courage to meet him that I had. There was none left. And the more time to pass would make it even less appropriate to introduce myself because we weren’t complete strangers. Just in real life. I can repost your mixes on Soundcloud, you can like my Insta posts about coffeeshops, but..what? Would I ask how your daughter is doing in person when I’ve never spoken to you before for you to tell me you have a daughter? That’s not okay. That’s creepy. It’s this weird social limbo space. And so I marked him my Arch Nemesis, because we could never be cool, and I avoided him at all costs.

Do you know how hard that was? I ran into him, everywhere.

He went to all of the Night Markets and other food festivals.

He coffee’d in the Philly coffee scene like I did.

He’d be the opening DJ for every concert I went to.

HE BECAME MY NEIGHBOR.

Okay, I became his neighbor I guess, but like…details? He still doesn’t need to walk out of restaurants right as I’m walking past or use the trolley at the same time as me. It takes so much out of me to be normal and calmly, un-screamingly get away as fast as possible without being spotted every time.

I had a friend once try to trap me into an introduction after a concert. He was my ride to the party afterward, but I caught on…I saw him conversing with my Arch Nemesis, and I left the venue and took the sub to the party instead. I was dedicated. I would die before having another awkward exchange with this man, or worse yet get shunned an nth time.

But two years of dipping, ducking, fast walking, and silent screaming all came to a crash and burn. I slipped up last month.

I was at Likable-Face Person’s party. It was the end of the night and all the cool people who don’t get kicked out when the bar closes, and me, were standing around talking. I was adding to the conversation while also looking down at my phone. Someone replies to my comment, and as I say something back I look up and it was himMy Arch Nemesis.

We had conversed. I said a thing. He said a thing back. And I responded again. That was dialogue.

Dammit. Alright Storm, don’t you dare scream. Calm down, stop breathing so fast…uh..uhhh…go to the bathroom or something. Or I don’t know do so–

“Storm, you ready? Let’s go,” I hear my ride yell from the front door.

SAVIOURRRRRRR. And I thought I had gotten away for good.

But there we were, at another party just a week or two later. Same scene. End of the night. Everyone chatting. I had stepped away into another circle of more chats. But in a break of topics, I was directly addressed by my Arch Nemesis. And I was trapped, acting normal, talking back and having conversation. It was…nice. I hated it. The voice inside my head was hoarse from screaming endlessly. And then,

“…You know that hat you made has gotten passed around to everyone in the family. My daughter wears it most now.”

Oh my God, the hat is…okay?

crying face emoji

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s…all I wanted. Th-thank..you.

So we’re like…friends now? We hugged, it’s kinda official. I met his family. His wife is really nice. Soooo hooray reconciliation? …of a beef nobody knew was a thing? Yeah, hooray!

Even still, that didn’t stop me from seeing him at the co-op market last week and scurrying away to stare at kale until the coast was clear and only then going to the register to check out..

Old habits die hard I guess.