Less is More

(I made a dress!  In summery linen, no less.  I know, I was supposed to be practical and sew for fall - but Ali [formerly of Wardrobe Reimagined] was in town in mid-July and spotted a Mississippi Avenue dress sample at a local fabric shop, and I just couldn't help myself!  The girl does have an eye for a good pattern, doesn't she?)

I have been thinking recently how getting to the essence of things - stripping away the fluff, focusing in on the heart of the matter - can really allow one's personality to shine through.  I know I've been on a minimalizing kick since moving to Portland, but it does strike me that less really is more, not just in terms of household items/clutter, but also for artistic endeavors, events, etc.

This post, for example, really made me smile.  I love Kate's aesthetic and voice, how she has followed and developed her interests to create a very unique, beautiful, and interesting corner within the crafting blogosphere.  She's focused in on what she loves and consequently, defined and developed them and distilled this in her site, and that, to me, is what makes her blog, her patterns, her photographs, her writing all so unique, wonderful, and iconically Kate Davies. 

(This was so fast and easy to sew.  Even a slow poke like me can whiz through it in a couple sittings ... and I had to bind all the seams [which were all pressed open] with rayon binding to prevent the linen from fraying.  Even then.  I highly recommend!  My only mods were to cut ~2" off the hem, and fold the neckline under twice and stitch instead of using bias binding.  I figured I'd channel Lauren's that shit'll steam out.  Which, by the way, I told a knitter that motto and she laughed and laughed, it's totally the equivalent of trusting a good blocking to heal most wrongs.)

This becomes even more apparent to me when I compare the photos of her weddings with my memories of some of the weddings I've attended/participated in within the past couple years.  My generation, at least in America, is terribly funny when it comes to weddings.  What an industry - what hype!  And we don't even realize it because we're knee deep into it, it's our context and therefore our frame of reference.  For instance, I was telling my former boss (a lovely woman in her mid-50's) about how "hair and makeup" for my friend's 6PM wedding meant that we started the day before 9AM.  "Hair and makeup!"  She sounded equal parts bemused, horrified, and befuddled.  And I had to laugh.  Yeah, I guess that does sound like a very "Hollywood actress" kind of thing to say, except it's now so much the norm for weddings (at least in the circles that many of my friends run in) that I didn't even blink at the thought.  Sometimes, you don't even realize that a generational divide exists until something like "hair and makeup!" comes up.

Yet, despite all the hoopla that now surrounds weddings - wedding favors that are unique and DIY and match the bride's colors! - sometimes it almost feels like all of these new details, "must have"s, and rituals can drown out the personality of the bride and groom, those little signature moments and pieces that relate the ceremony back to the couple in question.  And that perhaps instead of piling on ever more things to attend to and events to get right, maybe we could instead prune to the few that really matter to us (and this may differ for each person), and then make those particular events or mementos or touches truly personalized and reflective of who we are and what we want.

(In retrospect, I ought to have chosen a pattern that didn't cut up the gorgeous, large print quite so much.  The label just said "Italian designer," I've no idea who it's actually from - but I fell so hard for it that even though I don't normally wear cool colors, I just had to get 2 yards.  But in a way, the print is so large and so abstract that I think I can almost get away with it.  I think RTW has committed far worse pattern crimes!)

 I've also been thinking about this in terms of writing.  Last week I had the pleasure of sitting down to discuss the first half of a friend's manuscript.  She's the one writing a coming of age/coming out/medical memoir, and it's been neat reading different iterations of her book.  My old boss (same one who I horrified with the thought of "hair and makeup!") has done a lot of quality improvement work in the healthcare field, and she likes to say that the beauty of improvement means that you're dealing with better and better problems.  And I totally feel that way about reading my friend's writing.  As she fixes some of the more glaring issues, now the subtler, deeper, more interesting problems emerge, ones that get closer and closer to the heart of her story, which really means getting closer and closer to these questions that we all grapple with as human beings - about love, friendship, family, trust, growth, fear, panic; holding it together for everyone else, hiding from the mirror because some part of us knows we're limited in how much we can handle.

Part of what's working for her, I think, is that she's cutting words and cutting events from her story.  She went from 120,000 words to 100,000, and I think she could easily cut another 15 or 20K and still be fine.  When we cut away the important-to-us but not-as-important-to-the-story events, then the reader and the author can really focus in on what is important.  Take away the distractions, and what you're left with is some powerful stuff indeed.

Of course, easier said than done.  One of the hardest parts of memoir is that it's your life, for cryin' out loud!  Of course everything seems important - it probably was important to your life.  But a memoir is a particular story about a particular period of your life, and you need to cut events that are narratively unimportant, even if they are personally important.  Which is such a hard distinction to make; I'm totally guilty of not being there yet in my manuscript.  And also, often when writing memoir you're circling and circling an event or concept or time period, and it takes awhile to distill the story down to its most important elements, its true essence.  Iteratively whittling out the unimportant events, taking a step back to evaluate what's left, and then whittling some more.

Slowly-slowly, as my Japanese roommate used to say.  Slowly-slowly.

 

(So I thought I'd experiment with showing off garment photos while not making a whole post about the garment itself, I never feel like I have enough to say about a garment to justify an actual post, but I do miss sharing FO's because I don't have anyone local to do that with.  Torn between thinking that it works and thinking that it's really discombobulating to toggle back and forth between garment commentary and philosophical musings on "less is more."  Maybe next time I'll try putting in less garment commentary?  Perhaps leave the photos caption-free and just make a small note at the end, re: pattern name, mods, etc.?  Holler if you have a preference!)

Slowly, slowly ... a little bit of sewing

Today I took a break from my regular schedule to kick back and do nothing.  Which, in my corner of the universe, seems to involve prepping sewing projects.  Self, really?  On the other hand, as I've mentioned before, I don't craft much when I'm writing, and sometimes I really just itch for a lovely dive into the tactile, beautiful, satisfying world of garment making.

Pictured above, left to right: the makings of a refashioned Archer (with a peek of my all-time-favorite Liberty print), a quilt for a friend, a summery Alder.  Grainline Studio appears to be my pattern company of the moment!

It was nice.  Nice to putter - slowly, slowly, never hurry never rest.  Nice to sink into the intricacies of cutting and ironing and prepping projects for the machine.  Nice to think about my friendship with the woman for whom I'm making the quilt (we go back to 14, which is over half a lifetime ago, eep!).  Nice to think about the coming season and what I'd like to make - not too much, a couple garments, enough for my evolving style, things that will work well in a streamlined wardrobe.

I used to feel this great big rush to craft.  Get something up for the blog, work my way through my stash.  In the last year or two, my financial situation has fluctuated quite a bit and so I now think of my stash as a lovely place to shop for fabrics that I currently can't afford to purchase.  (I do splurge now and again, but for the most part, stash shopping it is!)  Fabric choice really is important to how much I like the final product.  And I think that's something that sewing my own wardrobe, and my current slow-clothing approach to garment making, has gradually cultivated, namely an understanding of what is most important to me in the making process and final product.

In two of the financial management/simple life books that I own, the author talks about the "fulfillment curve" and finding that sweet spot that defines "enough."  For me, this question applies not just to money but also to crafting and the size/composition of one's handmade wardrobe.  Just how much is enough?  What elements comprise enough?  What are the pieces that bring me the most joy and satisfaction, are the most important to me, and how do I try to focus on those in the moments when I do spend crafting?  Given that my time for crafting is now somewhat limited, I find it increasingly important to hone in on these "high impact" areas.  If this hobby is going to be an escape, a creative outlet, a way for me to kick back and relax, then I'd certainly like to maximize my chances of finding just that when I do finally clear off my table and haul out my sewing machine.

After a good number of years and experimentation, I think I've hit upon the formula that (currently) works for me.  Quality fabrics in colors and prints that I enjoy, and that also play well with the rest of my wardrobe (a great way to avoid wardrobe orphans!).  Silhouette, style, and degree of ease that work well with my lifestyle and personal preferences (I hate tucking in my tops, which not only rules out certain blouses but also certain types of skirts and pants).  At present, patterns that are neither too fiddly/fussy nor too complex.  And there are certain types of garments that I enjoy sewing more than others (pants = ugh, dresses = yeay!) so I am perfectly content to focus on the ones that I like and then hit up the thrift shop for the rest.

And most importantly?  Take it slow and take it easy.  Part of this means thinking hard about which project I really want to tackle next.  Could I see myself wearing it once/week for the upcoming season or two?  Am I in the mood for something simple or something more involved, for a new pattern or to dig out a TNT, for fiddly fabrics like silk or easy fabrics like cotton or wool?  Part of this means accepting that I'm just slow - I probably crank out a finished object every month or two, and I need to be OK with that.  Part of this means working with fabrics that I absolutely love, which are paired with patterns that I'm either reasonably sure will be a good match, or else willing to leap into that hideous/fabulous territory that I seem to love so much.

And part of this means accepting that the current pared-back state of my wardrobe (which I actually quite love, and which really is not "pared back" at all when one considers how 90% of the world lives!)  My parents were up recently to visit, and my mom seemed a bit surprised that all my clothing actually fit into one closet.  Ha, I'm not that bad, am I?  I guess I am.  Was.  Whatever.  I guess this is part of locating "enough," too.  Some days I feel quite bored with the clothing I have on hand, but the flip side of the equation is that it only takes one or two new garments to suddenly make me feel like I have so many more choices and a nicely refreshed wardrobe!  Which is a great feeling to have.

Here's wishing all of you a beautiful spring, happy moments spent in your leisure activity of choice, and the permission to occasionally chuck responsibility and instead opt for that very thing that your heart, or soul, most craves ...

Unexpected Soul Baring

It's funny.  I had a couple potential blog posts in mind - cooking and food, giving you the 101 on a pair of really great breathing exercises, thoughts on style and closet purges and MMM - and here I sit, writing to you about perfectionism and self-esteem instead.

I guess I should back up.  In job interviews, I describe myself as a "recovering perfectionist."  (That always gets a laugh)  However, I'm also the person who thinks to herself, "Aren't I doing great with my perfectionism?  I'm now living by the 80/20 rule!"  To which folks have responded, "Uh ... if backing off means going for the 80/20 rule ... that's still setting the bar really high!"  Oops.  And I'd been so proud of myself, too.

I am also somebody who's spent her life surrounded by "success," in the American sense of the word - material success, professional success, and all the trappings that go with it.  To wit: around the time I turned 23 - and certainly before 25 - word passed through my high school grapevine that one of our classmates had just sold his company for $100 million.  "The first one of us to reach $100 million!" people said.  I'll pause to let those words sink in.  Note they carry the assumption that MORE of us will hit the $100 million mark.  OK, I went to high school in the epicenter of Silicon Valley.  The guys down the street started some tech company our freshman year and were rumored at a $2 million valuation by the time we hit senior year.  So having multiple classmates hit 9-digits, that's probably gonna happen.

And I'm no slouch.  I went to UC Berkeley.  I won a Fulbright.  I went to Harvard.  But somehow that whole area - Silicon Valley, San Francisco - has a way of pushing all of my insecurity buttons.  I never feel smart enough, pretty enough, cool enough, up-to-date enough when I'm there.  Maybe it's a function of trying to shed my adolescent skin in a highly competitive, conspicuously success-driven environment.  And because I'm a perfectionist, my instinctive reaction is to just bear down harder.  Work harder, try harder, do everything in my power to control every last possible outcome ... because maybe, through sheer elbow grease, I can pull it all together to Be Enough.

You know that new car smell?  I'm pretty sure new grads give off a similar scent.  There's something about our wide-eyed "I want to change the world!" that causes older, gruffer folks to roll their eyes and automatically discount the words coming out of our mouths.  Coming out of grad school, I must've reeked of it.  Higher ups often wouldn't take me seriously.  Wring those perfectionistic tendencies a little bit tighter - no really, if I just work a little harder, I'll get people to take me seriously! - and with every interaction they'd go tighter still.

Because working in the non-profit world, I'd never hit $100 million, man!  That meant that I needed to Do Good in the world instead, right?  To compensate?  Because that's what kids from the Silicon Valley elite ... the ones who go to Harvard ... do, right?  If I wasn't going to make the big bucks, then at the very least I could have my intelligence recognized by Making An Impact.  And not just any impact.  A big one!  With me playing a central role!  Ugh.  Is it any wonder I had a mini breakdown and came running to Portland?

One of my goals here is to develop a more balanced life, one where work matters less to me (matters less ... so that it can actually be a sustainable part of my life!), and one where other parts of my life come into greater focus.  Which is why I started laughing today on the way home from work.  Because in my current job, I have a fair number of interactions with Executive Directors, Medical Directors, Operations Executives and the like.  And if there's one thing about me and my lingering new grad scent, when you first meet me it's easy to mistake my naturally bubbly enthusiasm for idealistic ditzyness.  Generally speaking, the longer people know me, the more they realize, "Oh shit, I guess this girl kinda knows what she's talking about.  Sometimes."

So now that I'm in a job where I do a lot of first impressions and have little opportunity to strut my stuff, as you can imagine, my "let's-write-off-this-girl" hit rate has been decently high.  Which you think would bother me.  And at first, it did and then it really did, and I feared I was in danger of disappearing down the same hole I fell into in California.

Then something odd happened.  I got that reaction so often that ... I stopped caring so much!  Call it desensitization.  Call it a realization that these people are as limited as I am - how often have I been guilty of mislabeling an acquaintance under the wrong first impression?  (Including several of my best friends!  Jessica!)  Hey - maybe their perception spoke as much about them as it did about me!

I mean, intellectually these are things I've told myself all along.  But emotionally?  Truly feeling OK that other people don't think much of me?  And not having this instinctive need to wind the perfectionistic coils tighter and tighter, and fight harder and harder against these amorphous shadows?  But to instead laugh about it?  And not just laugh as in "haha, I will distract my angst with my laughter, thereby minimizing whatever emotional hurt is there," but laugh as in, "well!  That's rather amusing!"

I mean, gosh.  I'm pretty pleased with that.  This move, totally worth it.  Already.  Several times over.



Well, that's it for me for now.  Back in a bit, maybe on one of the three topics described above, maybe to ramble about something else!  Me Made May - the short answer is that I'm not participating this year, and feel pretty good about that decision.  It's just not where my attention is at the moment.  That said, I have been making stuff.  It adds a nice balance to my day.  A silk cami, a Moss mini, a gorgeously flowy summer dress ... maybe I'll get photos at some point for you lovelies!  In the meantime - I bought a bike!  *Does a jig.*  Spring is here!  *Claps hands.*  I made oatmeal-chocolate-chip-craisin cookies!  *Crams 2 more in her mouth.*  *Smiles.*  *Ignores dishes in sink.* 

*Smiles again.*

Recently

Hello hello!  Spring is officially here, Portland flirts with sunny days betwixt sprinkles and showers, and life marches happily forward in this little corner of the universe.  Returned from an East Coast work/pleasure trip last night, and was struck by the remarkable change my life has undergone in the past year.  The changes I've sought out in the past year.

Meanwhile, I tiptoe towards the holy grail of sewing - for me, that's pants - by completing the runner up in that category of intimidating makes (at least for me).  Coats.  This one took me 3 months; I took it slow, it was my first foray back into sewing since moving, and I was feeling no rush.  A learning project for sure!  But I adore wearing it.  There really IS something to be said for making the cakiest of sewing cake, those utilitarian garments one wears constantly.

And how basic is a navy wool peacoat?  Swoon.  I had a brain fart and cut it with the nap going sideways, and the camel hair in my blend is thus already starting to pill, but honestly, I'm still pretty darn happy with this make.  I'd love to use the pattern again (V2873, OOP) perhaps in corduroy with contrast plaid lapels?  Because I am obnoxious like that :).  Hideous or fabulous, baby!  I've also got my eye on the Minoru.

But first, pants, because I've only got 2 pairs of jeans - one that's half a size too small and requires some minutes of wriggling dancing, post-wash, before I can comfortably sit in them, and one that's been darned in several places and needs several more patches.  Thurlows, I'm looking to you!

As you can see, I've also been knitting, rather unexpectedly, to a theme.

At a Baltimore museum with one of my best friends.  This place has the awesomest sense of color!  The exhibits were so much fun.  There was one that kept John and me laughing for a good 5 minutes, starting with the reindeer coming out of toilets, and right on through the nutcrackers with aliens emerging out of one side of the body.  The Nightmare Before Christmas on LSD.  Really, Baltimore gets such a bad rap, kind of like Oakland.  I personally have always loved my visits there.  A quirky, laidback city with down to earth folks.

Saying goodbye to another of my best friends from grad school.  Kristy's headed back to Taiwan, and Wei Jie is probably returning to Singapore ("Sing" as she calls it) next year.  Asia trip 2015 is all I can say!  Once I dry my tears, that is.

Oh, and I finally unearthed this quilt top that I started when I was 16, and finished piecing it, then sandwiched it and have begun hand quilting.  Wool batting, mmm, perfect for PDX winters.  So squishy and lofty and soft and warm.  Had been slightly tempted to leave it until I turned 32, as I could then call it the quilt that took half my life, but at the rate I've been going, it might not get done until then all the same!  Haha.  Besides which, I've really been digging the blue side of the spectrum for the past year or so, which, as you can see, were perennial favorites in early life, as well.  A return to my roots.  Which is really how I feel.  So much more like myself.  So it seemed fitting.

And how's writing?  Well, good!  Thank you for asking!  Right before my trip, I whisked myself away to a cottage situated on a 230 acre nature preserve, to read through my book draft in 1 go.  Between you and me, internets, I got about 60% in and then my brain rebelled, so I hope there was nothing important in those last 40K words!  LOL.

But it's good.  It gave me the chance to evaluate What are you, book, and what do you want to be?  And I think that I am finally, maybe, starting to see the contours of this story.

It usually takes me about 3 drafts to know what my story is about, another 2 to get all the pieces roughly in place, and then another 2 to refine and polish and fix things up.  Assuming no drastic changes, of course.  Most people raise their eyebrows when they hear this, and you can just see them thinking, though they are too polite to say it, Why, woman, would you put yourself through that???  Because it's a bit like what I imagine motherhood to be like - watching characters (or ideas) begin to define themselves, emerge, and blossom, in ways you both anticipate and cannot imagine.  But then you also have a hand in the process, in the artistry of the form of the story, even if the substance is not entirely in your hands.

And the beauty of writing memoir is that it asks you to revisit and reunderstand seminal moments in your past.  Which, given the deep bout of reflection and soul searching I've done in the past year, has really grounded me in myself.  The timing has been perfect.  Or perhaps this book has been a catalyst of sorts?  Likely these have been intertwined, cause and effect muddied.  Regardless, the result has been so, so worthwhile.

May you experience a beautiful spring!

Happy 2014!

Hello hello!  I hope you're having a lovely start to 2014!  I spent the last 2 weeks with family in California, and can I just say - why is the sun so bright in California?  Haha, if ever I needed a sign that I've acclimated to the Pacific Northwest, I guess that was it!  Today I came back and popped out for a mid-afternoon run and found myself strangely pleased by the many shades of gray, the tall, dark trees, and the quietness on the streets.  Yes, the place for me.

Have you any resolutions this year?  In years past, I'd pile up a huge list for myself.  Usually more than I could count on one hand, and even if some small part of me doubted that I could even remember all those resolutions, never mind make progress towards them, I just couldn't pick one or two to focus on.

But 2013 was really an exercise in prioritization for me, and I'm planning to flex that muscle in my resolutions.  So this year, I've really only got one, although it's got several subcomponents, of the "it'd be nice if this happened' variety.

So in 2014, I resolve to ... take it easy.

Yep.  Taking it easy is not something that I do well.  Or rather, I did for the first two decades of my life, and then in my 20s I started making my own clothing, and when I began living on my own, I often opted not to outsource my daily errands/chores (like cooking meals vs. eating out), which took up a lot of time as well.  Add in work, seeing friends, exercising, writing, commute times, massive guilt over building fabric/yarn stash = rush to keeping making and making and making ... yeah.

I distinctly remember this one Sunday evening, I'd waded through my 13-item to do list all weekend, and I thought, "Well, it's 7PM and I've got 4 items to go.  Great!  If I allot 45 minutes to each, I can still get in bed at 10!"

And then I thought: "Am I crazy???  That sounds like a terrible way to spend Sunday evening!"  So I bargained with myself.  "How about you only do 3 of those items?  Give yourself a little break?"

LOL.  How about you do NONE of those items and kick back for a couple hours, woman? 

And I wonder why I had a breakdown earlier this year.  So anyhow, prioritization in the name of Taking It Easy is the name of the game.  Some ways I'd love for this to play out:

Internet-free Sundays.  This sounds crazy, but the Internet makes me kindof jittery.  I don't feel like I actually unwind until I've unplugged from it for a good stretch of time.  Here's hoping I can regularly stay off the Internet once/week!

Only check email 3x's/day at work.  Seriously.  Are you one of those people who obsessively clicks on the little "message" button every time a new email comes in?  I know I'm guilty of this.  It leaves me feeling frenetic and harried and exhausted as I try to switch back and forth in mental concentration.  Enough!  Batch process the emails, Jessica, and get on with it.

Get out for a walk once/day during the week.  I used to be really good about this, but stopped in my last job (probably because I was doing 2.5 people's work).  Even 10 minutes makes a huge difference!  I relax, the air and exercise feels good, and work woes get put into perspective.

Gratitude mantras.  This is a bit New Age-y, but when I start my day by longhanding out a series of mantras, I really do approach the workday with more perspective and less OMGthisislifeanddeath.  Simple things like, "I am lucky to have a job that makes use of my skills and training, with people I like ..."

Make fewer things.  I've really enjoyed my sewing break this fall!  And I think I've finally come around to viewing the stash NOT as a guilt trip, but as the opportunity to work with beautiful colors, nice textures, and fun materials ... whenever I get around to them.  I also find that when I'm making a lot, I tend to want a lot.  Sometimes, when we only add a couple new items into the rotation each season, it helps us cherish them more and cultivate a less-is-more mentality.  I think.  2014 will be the test of that theory!

Anyhow, wishing you all the best this January!

Of Late

So.  Where the heck did I disappear to and what's been going on behind the scenes?

Life
I quit my job and moved to Portland OR.  Was it terrifying to pick up for a new city where I had very few friends and no job waiting?  Absolutely.  But I was stuck, stuck, stuck in California, and I finally decided that if, at 30, I let my fears of what might happen stop me from doing what my intuition told me that I needed to do, well, then fear would increasingly rule my life.  I don't imagine life-changing decisions get easier to make as one gets older.  Facing down your fears is a bit like a muscle, it's gotta get flexed now and then or else it atrophies.  So here I am, nearly 2 months in, and every day I wake up and am glad I did it.  Yes, there are terribly lonesome moments, and also periods of great uncertainty (do I really think I'm going to find a job?  The economy is still shit and Portland is a tiny job market).  But it was what I needed, and I'm glad I did it.  Even if Portland itself doesn't stick, and I wind up moving someplace else (or moving back to CA), it was the step that was right at the time.  I think this city is going to stick, though.

Sewing
At the end of 2012, I decided stashbusting was my top priority for 2013.  I was tired of looking at stacks of fabric and feeling guilty for not using it; some people might look at a stash and see potential, I look at it and see obligation.  Seriously.  It weighs on me that I haven't sewn things up, or fast enough, and I wind up tackling projects not out of joy or inspiration, but out of this feeling that I gotta get through C, D, and E on the list so that one day I can maybe work it all down and stop feeling guilty.  Craziness!  So I culled 4 bags of fabric and donated them to a scrap reuse store, sent bundles off to friends both local and international, and then got to it.  Unblogged (and possibly never-will-get-blogged): 2 knit dresses, 4 woven dresses, 4 blouses, a PJ set, and miscellaneous household items.  And oddly enough, I haven't sewn a stitch since getting to Portland.   My machine's out, but it hasn't felt right.  I'd like to make myself a couple mini skirts for fall/winter, but we'll see if that happens.

 

Knitting
I shall always think of 2013 as the year I went crazy making socks, and the year that my friends decided to start having babies.  Who knew baby clothing was so fun to knit?  An entire garment out of a single skein of yarn?  Mind boggling.  Throw in a couple hats, finishing up an odd sweater or two, and you've got my year in knitting (to date).  Somehow, sweaters for me just feel less compelling at the moment.  I guess I've already got a little stack of hand knits that I cherish, although every time I look at colorwork, I think that I'd really love to make a colorful, intricate, fair isle sweater or two.

Other creative endeavors
I'm writing a book.  This is not one of those jubilant "I got a book deal!" kind of announcements; ever since I could read, I knew I wanted to be a writer, and finally, 25 years after my first realization, I woke up one day and realized I was ready to get on with it.  A writer is somebody who writes, regardless of whether or not they are ever published, and so I am writing the book that I wish I could have read when I was younger.  I'm taking advantage of my free time in Portland to spend lots of time thinking and journaling and freewriting and shitty first drafting and excavating notes and ploughing through old drafts.  It's exhilarating and discouraging, all at the same time, but I have never regretted the decision to take the time off to invest in this project.  I spent a lot of my 20s crafting as a way to avoid writing, but looking back, I don't think I was personally ready yet to really dig in and write, so the way I see it, I gained two incredible skillsets in the process of becoming ready :-).


What now for this space?  Not sure.  I never claimed it on Bloglovin' so I'm guessing about 3 people will see this, but likely it will be the 3 bloggers that I absolutely adore (just kidding, there are more of you that I adore, but you know what I mean!  I feel lucky to have gotten to know some really cool people through this blog!).

When I decided that I was really going to get serious about writing and not go crazy, I knew I'd have to jettison other things from my life.  Writing, personal relationships, and work (when it comes, gotta pay rent!) go at the top of the list, which means crafting falls somewhere below exercise and cooking, although I know I'll never give it up completely.  (If you're curious, writing and crafting used to be inverted!)  I find there is no better way to unwind from a hard week than to put on a couple episodes of Masterpiece and sew/knit a garment.  Maybe this will just become a regular blog - you know, documentation of life, with extra musings on creativity and creative endeavors.  Or maybe it will just fall away.  I do miss this community of people, though, so I guess we'll have to see where life takes us.

One step at a time.  Which is all we can ask for, really.

Anyhow, I hope you are all well and experiencing a good Fall!

 

In defense of the Luddite

I suppose it is fitting to pen this over Thanksgiving weekend, a holiday which started out as one of gratitude (I won't go into a cynical historical take on it) and has, of late, morphed into a long weekend characterized by frenetic bargain hunting.  It was one thing when they dubbed the Friday after Thanksgiving "Black Friday" and started encroaching on the holiday weekend with megasales at ungodly hours of the morning, it's another that they're creeping into the day itself.  I mean, heaven knows we are a country filled with dysfunctional nuclear and extended families (mine is certainly not exempt), but could we at least take a stab at this whole "family" thing even once a year without hiding behind the football games running on multiple channels, the shopping, and the annual onslaught of new movies?  I should talk, I ducked out on my extended family entirely this year.  But!  I did see plenty of my parents!

(I'm making quilt blocks for Sandy)

Lately I've been thinking about consumption.  Not so much material consumption, though that's what I opened with, but about the media that our minds consume.  I remember the summer after my junior year in college I subletted an apartment in Berkeley because I had an internship in Oakland, and though I spent my days locked to the computer to complete my internship tasks (and discovered, in my boredom, the joys and perils of eBay), by night I had no Internet access and spent the time reading on the couch, at my friend's around the corner, going for a long run and then cooking up a late dinner, or wandering in and out of book shops.  I remember thinking that my brain felt different when I gave it a break from the Internet.

Through the years I've struggled to give myself this same sort of structured "off" time for my brain.  Especially when the Internet is right at our fingertips, and we use it for so many things - communicating with farflung friends, looking up a recipe, hunting down photo instructions for the kitchener stitch because we are too lazy to remember it ourselves (ahem), or just noodling about in search of artistic inspiration.  Or, dare I say it aloud, in search of a way to pass the time.  I've gone so far as to swear I will regularly designate a couple weeknights "computer free" only to fall flat after a month or so.  I've even tried foregoing Internet in my home, but that's always turned out to be far more inconvenient than I've anticipated, and it too falls flat within weeks.

(These all need a dark border, I might try to add them all at once?)

In my whole recent bout of lethargy, one silver lining that has emerged is an increased awareness of my body and my mind.  There are days where I come home and I am so mentally exhausted from work that, physically, there's not much I want to do except climb into bed at 7:30 and shut down for the night.  Gradually, though, I realized it wasn't that I was tired from work persay, rather I was tired from processing all the inputs my mind had received from the day.  This included the music I listened to on the way home, the business show my parents like to watch after dinner, even the newspaper I skim in the mornings.  And if I consciously blocked those out by driving to and from work in silence, eating breakfast without a newspaper, or disappearing into a different corner of the house when my parents tuned in to the latest doings on Wall Street, my brain started hating me less.  And yes, this includes blog reading, which I have now attempted to limit to a weekly occurrence.  That, I've noticed, makes a big difference, and I apologize if I've been commenting less frequently on your blog but at least you know the reason now!

What interests me is that when I limit the inputs to my brain, I find more space for creativity, as though our mind has limited capacity for both consumption and creativity, and thus doing more of one decreases what's available for the other. Or mabye it is that consumption and creativity lie on opposite ends of the spectrum, and a shift in one direction decreases our orientation towards the other. I'm sure it is not a perfectly diametrical relationship, as much of creative inspiration can come about by consuming the ideas and works of others. But it seems that, as with many good things in life, moderation may be key.

If forced to choose, I prefer the way my brain feels on this diet of decreased consumption and increased creativity, to my brain overwhelmed by sensory and data inputs.  I recognize this is not an ideal way to live, as smartphones and the Internet have brought a lot of time- and monetary- savings, not to mention new economic and even political opportunities, to millions.  And I still find consumption addictive, as it is so much easier to sit in traffic and listen to music, than to check in with my body and realize that I crave silence right now, and then turn off all inputs and sit in - how boring! - complete silence. Often, I do a round of channel switching to gauge my options (often lousy), before succumbing to the silence. Sometimes, I confess, I just keep the radio on. It is still a balm of sorts, after all.

But will the world let me?  There's Facebook and Twitter (which I have sworn off), there's hundred of news aggregation sites and CNN running 24/7 and more and more of us sharing more and more of our lives online for others to read, and even shopping has a similar effect on me (so many choices to process, sensory overload).  This year, half of Americans have a smartphone, which makes me wonder how much longer I can hold out.  Because if the car radio has taught me anything, it is how imperfectly I withstand the everpresent temptation.

I seem to have hit my personal limit already.  For others, who knows?  It took me going on a pretty strong 'activity diet' to cultivate this awareness (half a year ago, I spent a series of weekends doing nothing and seeing nobody, and by now I have 'improved' to the point where I can safely schedule myself for 1-2 events each weekend without any adverse health consequences, but not much more than that).  And I'm sure we all have different thresholds, ones that vary not just by personal preference but also by personal circumstance.  This is a worldwide shift, and possibly I am just reacting to change just as generations before me have done, arguments whose terrain has been documented in history books as the rise and fall of the tide to the pull of the moon.  Learning to mediate the rift between societal change and personal preference, though, is a lesson I have yet to find in my school books.

Miniretreat to Mendocino

Whoops, my last post went up out of order, this one was supposed to go up first ...

Before I started my new job, I took myself on a miniretreat up to a tiny cottage in Mendocino for a couple days.

No internet, no television, no phone for three days. Wow.

My first time using a wood stove!  I have to admit, I'm not terribly brilliant at building a fire.

Made myself breakfast in bed.  Twice.  Heavens, why don't I do this more often?  And for the first time, truly appreciated how nice it is to brew oneself a pot of tea, then slowly savor it through a morning, afternoon or evening.

The gardens outside were absolutely beautiful, too.  The cottage is maintained by a landscape architect, and there were multiple charming spots to just sit and relax.  Their property was within walking distance of the beach, and the cottage had no shower, just a clawfoot tub under this very 100+ year old tree.  Drawing myself a hot bath each night under the stars and trees, the sound of waves crashing in the background ... definitely a highlight of the trip.

This felt a bit like a convalescence of sorts.  I was physically tired, emotionally exhausted.  A couple months ago, I remember reading an Agatha Christie novel set in the earlier part of the last century where Ms. Marple went off to the seaside for a month to convalesce, and I remember setting the book down and thinking, "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.  Why don't we do that anymore?  When did it become the norm to pop straight back up after every illness and get straight on with life?  Why do we feel compelled to drag our sorry asses around when we're not feeling well?"  (OK, I realize that sometimes this is an economic necessity.  But I also think that we tend to discount the mental and emotional toll that our modern lives take on our inner selves.)

Although I spent most of my time curled up in the cottage or out on their grounds, reading or knitting or sipping tea or napping or walking along the sand dunes, I did venture out a bit as well.  Beautiful.

There were all sorts of things I could have gone off to do - hikes! clambering among tidepools! walking about town!  But I deliberately tried to do less, and I realized how much better I felt because of it.  I feel like I spent a lot of my early and mid 20s running around, trying to cram more in.  Honestly folks, right now I am just tired.  All I can do is take it easy.  Maybe it means I run 2 days out of the week instead of 3-4.  You know, that's OK.  Maybe it means I make 1 garment a month instead of 2 or 3.  You know what, that's OK.  Napping once/day on the weekend?  Go for it, kiddo.  Waking up from the nap, and then continuing to lie there?  Absolutely.  Do it.  There will come a period where I do not have that luxury of empty time, but it's all I can handle right now, so that's all I'm going to ask of myself.

Come now, I couldn't visit Mendocino and not wear my Mermaid shell, made with the Heather Ross fabric from the Mendocino line of fabric!  Love wearing button-downs, unbuttoned of course, over casual clothing, for a slighlty-more put together look.  Just slightly.  Still quite casual.

I figure, I post so infrequently and when I do post about handmades, so often it's to showcase how I made up an old pattern that I've already made before, so clearly that's not what's drawing back those of you who still stop by this little blog, so it's OK to put out there that I'm only expecting to make up 1 new garment each month.  In keeping with this latest shift in my life, I'm consolidating blogs and only posting once per week, and I'll try to keep up a steady "Photo Wednesday" with random snippets from my life to keep things interesting for y'all.

New and new

So, next month I will be moving and starting a new job.  This past week has been a flurry of announcements, trying to wrap things up, and working with my team to figure out a transition plan.  I am incredibly sad as I always am when I leave a place behind -- it's my way of letting go, this sadness.  Even if I know what is coming next will be great and exciting, first there is the sadness.

When I get home at night, all I want to do is knit.  Or, as has been the case in the past 2 weeks, crochet.  I find myself burrowing into crafting both as a respite from the world around me - my one truly peaceful place to go - but also as a means to make, make, make as I have not yearned to make for months now.  I've noticed that whenever I am in transition in life, I begin desiring new things.  Clothing, accessories, home decor, shoes, fabric and yarn, wall decorations.  I rummage through folders of photographs to identify candidates for printing and framing or taping up on walls.  I start quilts, I finish quilts.  I troll eBay and Etsy.  There are indulgence purchases that really take it one step beyond indulgence and into unnecessary.  Or "unnecessary" as is defined in my life as present, as I find that word a moving target as I go through life.

I used to think that the uncertainty of transition or limbo caused me to focus on the more superficial aspects of life - as though, hey, I can control what I wear, oh lookie, sparkly distractions!  While there is something to that, I also think that the materials possessions we surround ourselves with are a reflection, to a certain extent, of our inner world.  And when we change, it can be nice to invest energy in external manifestations of that change.  Especially if we are makers and DIYers, these external manifestations of change carry a whole additional level of symbolism and meaning.  Not to mention the soothing rhythms and joy of creativity and working with our hands.

03.04.2012

I am at this irritatingly unendingly "in progress" stage with everything that I'm working on, including a couple knitting projects that clearly need to be ripped out for the fourth time, or ones that just don't seem to end. But on a cheerier note, what a beautiful weekend! One of those stunningly blue-skied weekends that makes the rest of the country hate California so. Yesterday I rock climbed with some colleagues and then hopped over to the Pier to get some ice cream. There is nothing so satisfying as an ice cream cone on a beautiful day after a good workout. Today I got dim sum with my parents and cousin, and biked down to the Lake where I sat and journaled and enjoyed watching the dogs chasing one another and the little children toddling about. Why are they so adorable when they can't quite walk properly?

My roommate, just now, was telling me about an upcoming Jewish holiday where you dress up, in costume, to express parts of yourself that are hidden. For her, she decided, this was anger and sex, so she was going as a dominatrix (is that how you spell it?) "I mean," she said, "I don't really feel angry a lot. But do I really not have a lot of anger? If I'm experincing the full spectrum, I should." So anyways, she's been assembling her costume: black heels a mile high, black corset, black gloves and whip, red lipstick - the red, the one spot of color on her entire body. Notice my lips. Hear me. Actually, she was originally going to go as a diva --- "But then I found the corset, and my friend - of course, my male friend - was much more into the idea of a dominatrix."



I think that's such an interesting concept. How often do we really think about those parts of ourselves that remain unexpressed, maybe neglected or maybe willfully suppressed, and give them voice, permission, to come out? I remember after a particularly draining fight with my ex-boyfriend (we were international long-distance at the time), I wrote him this email explaining that "It's not that I want to keep things from you, it's just that there are parts of my personality that I don't particularly like and try to keep from other people." And he replied that he didn't want to seem cold, but that didn't seem like a very healthy approach in his mind. If it's part of who you are, isn't it better to embrace that part of yourself and live as a whole person, than try to suppress a part of you that is just a natural part of your person? And as much as I hated him for being right, I knew he was right. What he said did make much more sense to me, and it's an idea that's stuck with me ever since.



The other night I was out on a date with a guy I met online and he commented, within the first 30 minutes of our conversation, that I seem like a happy person. Now, to me, I don't think of myself as an unusually happy person. Then again, he's recently divorced with a young daughter, but even with that grain of salt I suspect that I have a number of friends who consider me to be a happy person. It's not that I'm not happy or that I don't have frequent moments of great bubbling joy and optimism, but my interior world is also filled with plenty of fretting and worrying. But putting together these 3 anecdotes, I wonder if, for me, worrying and fretting are my "down" side to the random, hand-clappingly amused, buoyantly childlike enthusiasm that is the sunnier side of my personality. So really, not that there's nothing to be "done" about the worrying, but it's not something I ought to try to "fix" about myself. It is what it is, I am who I am, just trying to learn to manage these sides of the self instead of repress them.

2.20.2012

Well. I had hoped to photograph some FOs this weekend to show off to you, but found myself flattened by the stomach flu. Friday night on the way home from work, I not only threw up multiple times on the bus (luckily I was carrying my knitting around in this holey plastic bag and just had enough time to yank the knitting out of the bag before it began), I also had to stumble off my train halfway home to throw up multiple times on the platform, and then another upheaval after I got off at my trainstop at home. My roommate found my under the blankets in fetal position. He kindly bought me Gatorade, ginger ale, and bananas. Man, Gatorade never tasted so good (it has since reverted to being disgusting) I spent Saturday limp in bed, listening to Harry Potter audiobooks on YouTube, with just enough energy to rouse myself every 10 minutes to hit "next." But last night I found myself craving CHICKEN (after a steady diet of saltines and Ginger Ale) and took that as a good sign.

So instead, here are some knitting UFOs I've been chipping away at, off and on these past 2 days, when I've had the energy:


I did have grand plans to finish up my dress this weekend, but life gets in the way sometimes. I tend to ask a lot of myself, forgetting to celebrate what I've accomplished in the rush towards getting on with the next thing, forgetting that sometimes what I've done already is a lot in itself. Recently, since August really, I've been asking myself to be more forgiving of myself, to not pack it all in so tightly.

It may sound silly, but sometimes I felt like I was letting down the people who follow my blog if I didn't produce "enough" - would they find it boring? Would they not like me anymore? Maybe I "needed" to make this and then that and fill this quota (1-2 garments per month? But that sounds so slow!) I think that's what I found so disturbing about Tilly's post way back when. Not only did it feel very personal - here's the reasons I don't follow your blog anymore, and the reasons your blog doesn't measure up - but it didn't give much room for people to evolve and their blogs to evolve with them. Because for me, part of being nicer to myself means not pressuring myself to make more things just for the sake of having something new and shiny to showcase. One small step backwards for ayenforcraft, one giant step forwards for Jessica.



Tied in to all of this is the realization that I need to actually carve out dedicated relaxation time for myself. Maybe this comes intuitively to most people; to me, it does not. It was actually something of a revelation. But after not one but three massage therapists, over the course of 6 months, told me that I have a very, very tight back "and should really come in here more often!" (my wallet protested that it would prefer to spend my small self-pampering budget on yarn or fabric, never mind that bending over crafts projects may very well contribute to knotted shoulders, sh!), I skipped on over to Amazon to look for some self-massagers (teach a man to fish ...) and found this intriguing little Accupressure mat which I've been using almost nightly since it arrived, and sometimes in the middle of the night if I've woken up and can't get back to sleep.

See those plastic spikes up there? Yeah, ouch! That was my first reaction. But wow. The description tells you that it may take a couple minutes to get used to the poking sensation, but gradually it will shift into a warm tingling sensation as blood begins flowing into your back (it's supposed to improve circulation; increased circulation = increased healing and decreased stiffness)


The interesting thing is that some nights, as I'm lying there, I find myself tensing up in reaction to the pricking of the plastic points. It's almost a reflexive self-protective stance against the initial discomfort. Yet it is precisely those nights that I do tense up that it takes the longest for the "warm tingling sensation" to kick in. When something in life is hard, our first instinct is to tense up and face down the challenge. But it's not healthy to continually wind ourselves up more and more tightly, and sometimes we have to let pain into our lives in order to get through one period and on to the next phase of our lives. Repression is not resolution, and often the fastest way to get past a situation is to go straight through it.

Does anybody else ever wonder if making clothes will just be yet another phase in their lives vs. a hobby that will stick for the long run? Lately I've wondered that more and more. I think it has filled a really strong creative need in my life for a number of years now, and I have no doubt that I will probably always tinker with my clothes in some capacity. I also know it has shifted my personal style in distinct but also subtle ways, but I don't know that I will always feel the need to fill my wardrobe with items that I made from scratch.

Has this merely been a creative vehicle to help me through to the next stage? I do know I have many other creative interests, but I also know that I've always loved expressing my personal style. I guess this is what my dad calls "the fog of war" (in reference to the McNamara documentary/film of the same title) - patterns emerge only in hindsight, in the moment they are all hazy shades of gray, the merest hints of shapes and patterns. I have no regrets, of course, merely gratitude that I had a creative outlet not only allowed me to express myself and learn something new, but also let me write and find community with wonderful, likeminded folk.

On Dance (and lemons)

(Lemon magazine photographs proudly displayed here!)

One of my resolutions this year (or "yearly lies" as my social worker friend's clients like to call them) is to exercise at least three times per week. Now personally, I hate gyms. I hate feeling like I am exercising for the sake of exercising. It seems like this strange commodification of movement - I will exchange 45 minutes of my time spent sweating while moving in place on this machine, for 120 calories which I watched accumulate, one by one, and which I can then apply towards a scoop of ice cream or maybe towards eventually getting into that smaller pair of jeans that I've been hanging on to which always make me feel bad to look at them but I tell myself it's motivational so I keep them around.

Pardon if you love gyms. Some like the convenience and regularity, the ability to target specific muscle groups; I totally get it, I used to coach people towards exercising more, and if it gets you moving, then yes, please please do go to the gym. Whatever it takes, seriously. For me, I love movement and I love doing things. Hiking. Biking. Jogging. Swimming. Yoga. Taichi. Dragon boating. Dancing.

I consider myself quite lucky that there are not one but two dance studios within 4 blocks of my little house here in Oakland. One that I've been attending teaches a fusion of bellydance, aerobics, and cardio weights (depending on the class). It's a bit crowded, but I always love learning new things and challenging my body. I also really love that the classes are filled with woman of all ages and all different body types, many with bodies that society would not judge as "beautiful" but who are stunningly gorgeous conveyers of the medium of bellydance. I feel totally awkward and stiff, but they are lithe and graceful, expressive, flexible, and you can tell that the women absolutely love it. They're confident and playful, they have fun, and their attitude makes them beautiful.

I think what I love most about my time there is that dance is "me" time. I spend so much of my life in my head, doing analytical things ... even though I'm somebody who does best when she stays true to her heart, engaging with creativity and empathy. Dance is very physical, very creative. Depending what you're dancing to, it can also be quite empathetic as you work to feel the music, express yourself through your body movements.


When I go to the studio, I don't ask anything of myself. I don't push myself to be bubbly and social, I don't expect to nail the steps and I don't judge myself if I don't work up a sweat. There's a flow to it and I just allow myself to sink right in. Time does a funny thing when I dance. There's a rhythm to each song which marks time in clear intervals, yet time also stretches out forever in front of me, almost as though the rhythms create their own version of infinity. It's like that when I run - there's a steady beat of my footfalls and my breath which I time to my footsteps, and within that steadiness time develops the most elastic quality. The "tension" between art and craft in writing and sewing and knitting is similar I think - the technique of craft creates an infrastructure within which an infinite number of creative possibilities emerge.

I think all the activities that I truly enjoy, like sewing and knitting and cooking and jogging and dancing and gardening, share some common features. They're tactile, they're physical. They're rhythmic, which lends itself easily to meditativeness. They have their own flow, by which I mean that they possess a repetition that can tends towards mindless, but they can also be challenging enough to be engaging, but not so challenging as to be frustrating.

I once had an Anthropology professor who pointed out that the notion that therapy must come from "talking through our issues" is a very Western-centric notion, and that in many other cultures the norm for working through difficult emotions is actually to engage in ritualistic, meditative and repetitive activities. I think I've found that a healthy balance of both is what keeps me most sane. And to me, they aren't activities that ought necessarily be reserved for moments of crisis. What's wrong with regularly spending time with your inner self? To quote the terminology of my professional field, it's like little doses of prevention ... which still carries negative connotations, because why can't it just be about peace and stillness and joy?

Anyways. I know this is a crafting blog, but in my mind there isn't actually much difference between crafting and physical activity, not in terms of how they both possess meditative qualities and sometimes the ways in which they can be creative. Truthfully, sometimes for me the creative and the meditative feel like two sides of the same coin, that coin which is a vehicle for bringing me closer to who I really am.

Comings and Goings

Lest you think it's been all gloom and doom around here, some fun happenings from the past two months.

Every 5 years or so, Kat and I bully our group of high school friends into dressing up in matching clothing and taking photographs. Last time we did denim with a white blouse, this time it was black and white.

Stripes and colors spotted while out and about ...

Celebrated my grandma's 88th birthday. Luckily, my family knows how to ham it up for the camera.


Notice the family resemblance?

My brother came over to visit my place in Rockridge. Here he is cooking for me:


A friend from high school is getting married. !!! For her bridal shower, we had a nice tea party. The gifts were a little less prim.

Brunch with a coworker. We'd intended to do yoga in a biodynamic farm in the heart of SF, but when we got there it turns out we were off by a day so we hit up brunch, macaroons, and some bridal shower shopping in the Castro District instead.