So I’m going to keep making my daily goals for this quilt and then not meeting them. I think that’s just gonna be how this thing goes until it’s done…if it’s ever done. Part of it is I have to do schoolwork when I come home too, and that’s taking longer than I’d like. But I honestly think this quilt is fucking with me. You will NOT finish me bitch.
OK, that sounds a bit crazy, yes. But usually I’m ahead of the game, not behind by a week.
I don’t think I started until almost 10…that’s part of the problem. Stay at school late to do tutorial, go to grocery store to buy more yeast packets for today’s lab on the way home, get home and read stupid email fucking up the entire schedule for next week, deal with that and dogs and order more yeast (I’m thinking I should buy stock in yeast, vinegar, and baking soda now that I’m teaching chemistry). What’s in my school fridge? Yeast. Eyeballs. A frog or two. I think I tossed the hearts. They went bad. Tapatio. Because. Yeah. Made dinner, hung out, tried to type up a worksheet when I couldn’t remember the damn materials and process. Fuck. OK. Finish that tomorrow.
Sigh. I’m overwhelmed. And irritable as shit. So I’m trying to hold that like a big huge ball of Playdoh and squish it down into something manageable, or even better, something I can throw away from me. I’m a visual person. I need to see all that shit rolled up in my head. Shove it into a cupboard, throw it out a window. In my head.
I had this drawing in my head for a while that I could never get out on paper. I was stuck in one of the old glass phone booths and everything else was banging on the outside, demanding shit. Yeah. Here’s how (and why) I hermit. Hard to do that with a classroom full of kids.
So I had started stitching down the night before, but I didn’t get very far. Honestly, I didn’t get much further last night, even with a couple of hours in…
This threw me for a bit. I swore a lot (yes, mom, I turned it off and walked away and then came back to it). Nothing made it stop. That message came back up after I turned it back on. And I’m thinking to myself, YOU’RE overloaded? Fucking A. I’ll show you overloaded. I love that my machine takes on my moods. So just before I was about to give up and go meditate (while swearing profusely at the universe), I thought about that Google thing.
You know, where you Google your error message (wait a minute…I’m getting a flash of how to solve ALL my personal problems) and someone else has a fucking answer? Yeah. Found it. Turned the damn hand wheel…all the while thinking, no fucking way this is going to work…and in typical Kathy brain fashion, I have now imagined all the possibilities to how I’m going to get the quilt done (including NOT getting it done or anything else, because I’m tossing everything in the pool and moving to Mongolia).
It worked. Seriously. Stupid machines. Kitten was perturbed by my yelling.
Now did I get done? Hell no. I stopped at about 12:15 because I remembered I had to be up early for a meeting.
I draw that face a lot because in my head, my mouth is often yelling like that. This quilt is about time. I don’t ever have enough of it. And apparently I’m old. You know how that goes (sure, many of you are older than me…). Bodies break down. I got the whole bottom dirt area done, plus the legs and torso up to about her waist, and I made it up one arm to the shoulders. So more than halfway, but I probably have a good two more hours to do. Yeah. Schedule shot to hell again. Whatever.
*Coconut Records, West Coast