Well...I did stitch...something?
Week before last, I didn't stitch at all for no reason in particular and then last Monday happened. As a young girl I was obsessed with Parisian art and architecture in general (although that was probably just the artist in me), but Notre Dame had my full, undivided attention. It was safe to say I was obsessed with it. I studied French in high school for three years and then another two for my first trip through college (although I can't speak a lick of it...I can only watch a French film without subtitles...the joy of an Arkansas education), just to help me when I finally made it over there and I would be able to visit all the places I had seen in books. Unfortunately, I oversaturated myself (as I tend to do when I obsess) and the overall thrill died down, but I never forgot the Lady of Paris and I would always get the warm and fuzzies whenever I would see her in a book or movie.
When my Sister first sent me "the" text informing me it was on fire, I thought it was a joke. I tried to stay at my desk and peruse as many news sites as possible, but it wasn't enough, so I just walked away from my office and and plopped in front of the breakroom TV for the rest of the afternoon. Co-workers came and went. I remember some asked me what was happening, others asking me when I was going to return to work, I don't remember answering most of them because I think I was just in shock (and to the latter question I'm sure my answers were probably rather snarky, no matter the managerial level of questioner, and probably came with the reply of "whenever I feel like it" and "I believe I'm owed 23 years worth of lunches", so there is no telling what I said to whom). It wasn't until one literally told me she didn't know what Notre Dame was that I actually started loosing it. I just answered her that "it's a church in Paris" (the simplest way I could think to explain it, to which she still didn't know what I was talking about), but that's when the tears started and I cried for the rest of the day. I cried for the loss of an amazing landmark, I cried for the people of Paris, I cried for the loss of a chunk of my childhood, and I even think I cried for the lack of culture that I am eternally engulfed in. No one at work understood why I was so upset, and that upset me more, so I just left work early. I had hit my limit of stupidity for the day.
Later that night when my Sister called me on her way home, we ended up talking for most of the night, something we don't typically do. She had the same reaction that I did to the tragedy and had pretty much the same reaction from work colleagues that I did...one of either nonchalance or a general level of uncaring. We discussed a lot of other things too from our past that no one would understand but us, but I think the thing we realized is that we both have an elevated level of culture that, yes, our parents did encourage, but even excels the tools they gave us, and we really couldn't figure out why. To say we grew up in a cultural wasteland is the understatement of the year! I had always planned to escape the second I turned 18, but it never worked out that way and now I'm stuck. She ended up meeting the love of her life and chose to stay, but we both knew we never belonged here and had outgrown this place, probably when we hit double-digits age-wise.
We were luckier than most to be able to travel as kids and we were the ones begging our parents to take us to the museums and the landmarks rather than the "fun" places "normal" kids would want to go (although we were dragged to those fun places as well), but we never left the States other than Canada or Mexico (before you needed a passport to get to either), overseas was just always something we planned to do someday together. Even as adults, we've still seen things and been places most people don't ever get to do, and some of even that I don't understand. We are literally 6.5 hrs from the ocean and yet most of the people I know have never seen it (although they all would love to) and I don't understand why. If I want to see something, I just get in the car and go! I've even offered to take people down, but I always get, "well, I have to clean my house", or "well, I need my husband's permission", or "that's a long way to drive"...obviously they don't want to see it bad enough...I have severe Social Anxiety Disorder and I can still go places I really want to go! But I'm also a museum or landmark-type of person and most people around here find rodeos (two words...animal cruelty) or tractor pulls more interesting. For years (and I do mean YEARS), I thought a tractor pull was a tractor-shaped pool you swam in, until I got dragged to one, wearing my bathing suit under my clothes. Boy, was I disappointed! Hey, I may be Southern born, but it doesn't mean I understand the lingo! I always say there isn't a Southern bone in my body and I think it's been proven time and time again. It doesn't help that they typically say "pull" like "pool", so how was I supposed to know the difference?
Although I have my blog friends which surrounds me with a close-knit community of the like-minded...in my general, overall, day-to-day world, I mainly feel alone most of the time and I hadn't realized how much alone I've been feeling lately. There is no one around me that shares my interests (except maybe Disney and Avengers and that's one person), but even he has his limitations conversation-wise. But the conversation with my Sister was a reminder that I'm not really alone at all because she can speak anything I throw at her and vice versa, and if not, we learn something new from one another. Granted, she has to adapt more to her outside surroundings than I do and fitting in is more important to her, so she essentially has to dumb herself down sometimes. That's not something I'm willing to do just for outside acceptance, but her mental issues are in another plane than mine, so she has to exhibit more "normal" airs than I do to get that acceptance, but ultimately, at the heart of it, we are the same and I will never be truly alone as long as I have her. And I think it made her feel better not having to play dumb, even if only for a few hours! I just have to remember to reach out every now and again and I think that, once I get this house built and move back to my hometown where she lives, that will help both of us. Or at least that's the plan.
But enough doom and gloom. So I didn't stitch the week before and I didn't stitch last week either...not until yesterday. For some reason though, I kept falling asleep yesterday. I NEVER do that! so alas, my stitching progress is once again abysmal. I left off here last time:
And made it to here before I finally gave up:
I'm not sure if it's because I've gone from finishing two very small projects to a fairly midland project to the largest in my stash, but I'm just not feelin' Alice and the B's, so I've decided that maybe I need to switch to another one and maybe I'll get my stitch mojo back. Granted, we are on the heels of Avengers Endgame, so I might as well say that the next two weeks are probably useless anyway, but I'm going to try. These are strange days we are in right now and I just don't think my head is in any game.
When my Sister first sent me "the" text informing me it was on fire, I thought it was a joke. I tried to stay at my desk and peruse as many news sites as possible, but it wasn't enough, so I just walked away from my office and and plopped in front of the breakroom TV for the rest of the afternoon. Co-workers came and went. I remember some asked me what was happening, others asking me when I was going to return to work, I don't remember answering most of them because I think I was just in shock (and to the latter question I'm sure my answers were probably rather snarky, no matter the managerial level of questioner, and probably came with the reply of "whenever I feel like it" and "I believe I'm owed 23 years worth of lunches", so there is no telling what I said to whom). It wasn't until one literally told me she didn't know what Notre Dame was that I actually started loosing it. I just answered her that "it's a church in Paris" (the simplest way I could think to explain it, to which she still didn't know what I was talking about), but that's when the tears started and I cried for the rest of the day. I cried for the loss of an amazing landmark, I cried for the people of Paris, I cried for the loss of a chunk of my childhood, and I even think I cried for the lack of culture that I am eternally engulfed in. No one at work understood why I was so upset, and that upset me more, so I just left work early. I had hit my limit of stupidity for the day.
Later that night when my Sister called me on her way home, we ended up talking for most of the night, something we don't typically do. She had the same reaction that I did to the tragedy and had pretty much the same reaction from work colleagues that I did...one of either nonchalance or a general level of uncaring. We discussed a lot of other things too from our past that no one would understand but us, but I think the thing we realized is that we both have an elevated level of culture that, yes, our parents did encourage, but even excels the tools they gave us, and we really couldn't figure out why. To say we grew up in a cultural wasteland is the understatement of the year! I had always planned to escape the second I turned 18, but it never worked out that way and now I'm stuck. She ended up meeting the love of her life and chose to stay, but we both knew we never belonged here and had outgrown this place, probably when we hit double-digits age-wise.
We were luckier than most to be able to travel as kids and we were the ones begging our parents to take us to the museums and the landmarks rather than the "fun" places "normal" kids would want to go (although we were dragged to those fun places as well), but we never left the States other than Canada or Mexico (before you needed a passport to get to either), overseas was just always something we planned to do someday together. Even as adults, we've still seen things and been places most people don't ever get to do, and some of even that I don't understand. We are literally 6.5 hrs from the ocean and yet most of the people I know have never seen it (although they all would love to) and I don't understand why. If I want to see something, I just get in the car and go! I've even offered to take people down, but I always get, "well, I have to clean my house", or "well, I need my husband's permission", or "that's a long way to drive"...obviously they don't want to see it bad enough...I have severe Social Anxiety Disorder and I can still go places I really want to go! But I'm also a museum or landmark-type of person and most people around here find rodeos (two words...animal cruelty) or tractor pulls more interesting. For years (and I do mean YEARS), I thought a tractor pull was a tractor-shaped pool you swam in, until I got dragged to one, wearing my bathing suit under my clothes. Boy, was I disappointed! Hey, I may be Southern born, but it doesn't mean I understand the lingo! I always say there isn't a Southern bone in my body and I think it's been proven time and time again. It doesn't help that they typically say "pull" like "pool", so how was I supposed to know the difference?
Although I have my blog friends which surrounds me with a close-knit community of the like-minded...in my general, overall, day-to-day world, I mainly feel alone most of the time and I hadn't realized how much alone I've been feeling lately. There is no one around me that shares my interests (except maybe Disney and Avengers and that's one person), but even he has his limitations conversation-wise. But the conversation with my Sister was a reminder that I'm not really alone at all because she can speak anything I throw at her and vice versa, and if not, we learn something new from one another. Granted, she has to adapt more to her outside surroundings than I do and fitting in is more important to her, so she essentially has to dumb herself down sometimes. That's not something I'm willing to do just for outside acceptance, but her mental issues are in another plane than mine, so she has to exhibit more "normal" airs than I do to get that acceptance, but ultimately, at the heart of it, we are the same and I will never be truly alone as long as I have her. And I think it made her feel better not having to play dumb, even if only for a few hours! I just have to remember to reach out every now and again and I think that, once I get this house built and move back to my hometown where she lives, that will help both of us. Or at least that's the plan.
But enough doom and gloom. So I didn't stitch the week before and I didn't stitch last week either...not until yesterday. For some reason though, I kept falling asleep yesterday. I NEVER do that! so alas, my stitching progress is once again abysmal. I left off here last time:
And made it to here before I finally gave up:
I'm not sure if it's because I've gone from finishing two very small projects to a fairly midland project to the largest in my stash, but I'm just not feelin' Alice and the B's, so I've decided that maybe I need to switch to another one and maybe I'll get my stitch mojo back. Granted, we are on the heels of Avengers Endgame, so I might as well say that the next two weeks are probably useless anyway, but I'm going to try. These are strange days we are in right now and I just don't think my head is in any game.
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Linda