Ugh. Do you ever get yourself involved in something and after you’re about oh…40 units of time into it you think – what did I just do?

Me neither.

Well, that’s not true. I have several projects at the moment which have involved me in varying degrees of this frustration.

I am about scarfed out. I’m on my fifth Harry Potter scarf and am about six stripes into it. It’s in Slytherin colors, which is a nice change from the oceans of burgundy and gold yarn that have been washing over my fingers in the past 2 months. I have 36 days to finish them all…well, this one and two others. Granted, I don’t have the yarn for one and the other could be delayed considering the recipient lives in California and won’t be here for the party to pick it up. But let’s just leave it at this. I’m on autopilot – don’t even notice when I’m knitting and when I’m not. The only time I do notice is when I want to read and knit at the same time and can’t because I only have two hands. And it takes one hand to hold open a book/flip pages and two hands to knit, so I’m one hand short. Bummer. I want to quit, but then I’m stuck with a bunch of disappointed friends and a box full of yarn and no use for it except Harry Potter scarves.

That One Guy and I trooped out to a housewares store to begin registering yesterday. I hear it’s supposed to be fun, but with my personality…it is not fun. He was having a great time – I was stressing out. I just think too much and try and consider every option before making a decision, and when it comes to registering I’m just no good at it. I was tempted to give him the gun and say “here, you can pick out whatever you want” and not in a mean, frustrated way – more in a “i have no clue what to do and am about to self-implode here” way. But registering is something you have to do if you want wedding presents…so I guess I’m stuck with it.

For those of you that don’t know, I have another blog. It’s been going a while – although the concept has been brewing since oh, I don’t know, my Middle European Literature class. *counts on fingers* That was about two and a half years ago. Anyway, Dr. C (for those of you who’ve never had the pleasure of taking his class) will strike you as a very imposing individual when you first meet him. Then you take a class and the “imposing” nature turns to annoyance – the man cannot stay on topic for very long at all. And finally, after a while, the annoyance turns to awe. The good doctor knows about everything literary. I mean everything. No wonder his focus seems to wander…knowledge just explodes out of him because he’s got so much there’s no way it’d all fit in his head! Anyway, now I’m wandering. Dr. C was a big supporter of stretching your brain to places you normally wouldn’t want it stretched. Like reading Kafka for fun. And for people who enjoy reading Kafka – reading Helen Fielding for fun. And if not for fun, then for the betterment of your scope of human understanding.

So I started a list. I started with the top 100 American novels. Luckily for me, some big news company had just compiled one. Next I got a book from a friend with a list of books you should read before you die. So I added those. Then I searched the top 100 British and European novels. Then the Hugo award winners and the Nebula award winners, and the banned books, and top children’s novels. You get my idea. And I made a huge – HUGE – freaking list. And committed myself to reading all of them. I didn’t give myself a time frame, considering some of the books (especially the challenged/banned ones) will take a little finagling (sp?) to get my hands on.

A lot of these books I don’t enjoy reading. A lot of them I love reading. A lot of them make me think and usually that’s a good thing. Or so I hear. But whether I enjoy them or not, like the characters or hate them, think the plot is worthwhile or would rewrite it totally differently, I continue reading them. And sometimes writing about them. I read them because someone, somewhere, at some point in time, deemed them worthy to be on a list of good books and hopefully if I ever write a book, I want it to be deemed worthy. I write about them to help cement them in my mind and because writing helps me as who I am to understand them better. I like being a storyteller so I like reading stories. And there’s nothing that will make you smarter quicker, and more thoroughly, than reading.

Since I am a stubborn sort of person, I keep working on these tasks. I might develop carpal tunnel syndrom soon here from gripping knitting needles, and I might need new glasses from all my reading. And a new library card cuz mine is getting bent out of shape with all the use. But that’s okay. Carpal Tunnel gives me an excuse to get some hydrocodone, and I need new glasses anyway.

Besides, isn’t patience supposed to teach you something? Or is it some things teach you patience…

*sigh* *picks up knitting needles* *picks up “Brideshead Revisited”* *ambles off to bed*

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