unsympathetic.net

Remember three days ago when I said I wasn’t going to buy any more yarn until I knit up what I had?

I lied. Seriously. I haven’t bought any new yarn yet, and it might not be awhile until I do, but I am definitely going to buy yarn as soon as I find the perfect yarn for the pattern I just had to buy this morning.

I’ve been coveting Eunny’s “Deep V Argyle Vest” pattern ever since I stumbled across her site. And since there was money in my PayPal account, I thought it was high time to splurge the $6 it cost for the 32 page pattern.

That’s right. This pattern totally beats Rogue for length. And there are no cables and no sleeves, either. Not that I’ve started on Rogue, either, even though I love the cables, love the pattern, and have the yarn. No, that didn’t stop me from getting this new “must have” pattern, accumulating it with the intention of knitting it some time before I die.

Just wanted to update you all on the fact that when it comes to yarn, don’t believe a word I say about whether or not I’ll be accumulating more yarn. I’ll always get more yarn if I have the money to do so.

- “If You Can’t Leave it Be, Might as Well Make it Bleed,” A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar: Dashboard Confessional

My uncle was admitted into the hospital yesterday, and for the first time our family has to seriously adjust the way we think about him and his being a Jehovah Witness.

He is the only Witness in the family, having converted sometime while I was in elementary school. In general, it hasn’t been a big deal for the family. Sure, he doesn’t show up for holidays, and when we do all eat together he says grace first, but other than that, everything has been the same.

However, being admitted into the hospital for internal bleeding for a Witness is very serious indeed. Since they refuse any type of blood transfusion (and no one in the family ever bothered to as the reasoning behind that bit of religious dogma), it was very touch and go for awhile, especially since it was a tear in an artery, and those can’t be fixed except by blood clotting and creating a scab.

Now that he’s out of the woods, my family has to come to grip with the reality that my uncle is willing to die for his religion. That we won’t be able to force him to do anything to save his life. That in all likelihood he will die from something that ultimately treatable.

It’s a sobering thought, to be sure. My uncle is my favorite uncle: witty, sarcastic, a true “Hightower” to the end. My dad and he tell us stories about when they were little and the horrible things they did to each other and to their little sisters. It’s a rather sad thought that one day my uncle won’t be around to tell us these stories as well.

So now, the only think the family can talk about—out of the listening range of my uncle, of course—is that they don’t understand his religion and why he he’s willing to let himself die. Oh, and why did he call a witness instead of his family first.

The last though, is pretty easy. He’s very popular in his congregation, and his best friend (who’s a Witness, of course), lives down the street. When he called for the ambulance himself, he wasn’t sure if he locked his doors, so when he got to the hospital, he called his friend to tell him what happened, and his friend called my cousin. My cousin, in turn called the rest of the family. So, it’s not like he was trying to not let us know. He just called who he knew would be home and not in the middle of something.

In all, it’s a very trying time for the family. Not as bad as when my dad had a heart attack two years ago and would have died if he hadn’t gotten to the hospital , but bad just the same.

My uncle, like any Hightower who has ever been in the hospital, is ready to go home. He was ready to go home yesterday as soon as they had announced he was stable. The doctors want to keep him for a few days, but then he’ll be home, life back to normal and acting like nothing had ever happened. My dad did the same thing. I suppose I will to, if I ever have to go to the hospital.

If you feel fine, you might as well get on with living life, right? But now life is a little different, after having a taste of what could happen if something serious happens to my uncle. However, it’s his choice, and we’ll all have to live with it.

I’m really glad he’s doing better, though. I don’t want that time to come until much later. Like, after me.

- “Which to Bury; Us or the Hatchet,” MmmHmm: Relient K.

Have you ever stopped to think about how amazing typing is?

The act of typing is something people take for granted once they’ve learned to do it. Most people don’t have to think about where each key is when they type. The thought process isn’t “oh, there’s the T, and then the A is over there, oh wait, the B is a stretch down to the bottom.”

The very idea that our fingers can keep up with our mind without our telling the fingers specifically what to do is amazing. That I can write a blog post, a poem, a short story or a novel without ever once telling my fingers which key they need to hit next, brilliant.
For me, I only have to think a word for it to show up on the screen in front of me. Sure, sometimes I have to think slower, because I am not a fast typist yet, but it’s better than writing things out on paper, since my mind always wants to jump ahead to what’s next, and not focus on what I’m writing here and now.

It seems to me, though, that typing is being taken for granted. People just assume that everyone else knows how to do it. When our parents were in school, typing was a required course to graduate high school. My sister graduated knowing how to type with two fingers. Typing was never a required class for us, and if I hadn’t taken an exploratory elective class when I was in the seventh grade—typing was one of three subjects we learned that year—I wouldn’t have learned how to type until college, when a typing
class was required for a business degree.

In fact, I don’t think I really learned how to type until I was 19 or so, when I took the college class. It was the first time I had used a computer program to learn how to type—previous classes where typewriter and lesson books. It was hard to learn how to type without looking at my hands, a habit I had picked up when I started using the computer at 14, because I didn’t know where the keys were.

I know I frustrated my typing teacher, because at the same time I was in the typing class, I was taking a web programing class. Typing instructors teach you to let yourself make mistakes. Your WPM is much higher if you don’t go back and fix things, because accuracy doesn’t count on a computer like it did on a typewriter. You can always go back and fix things at the beginning of a document on a computer, where you couldn’t fix anything but the row you were on on a typewriter.

I can’t no fix my mistakes as I go along. I hate seeing misspelled words when I know how to spell them. But even more so, if I made a mistake while typing out code and I saw it, if I didn’t fix it write away I would never see the mistake again. I sacrificed my WPM count to ensure that I wouldn’t make stupid code mistakes based on my lack of skills at typing. I explained this to my teacher, but I’m not sure if she ever got it.

Even though I don’t do much coding now, the fix-it-as-you-go approach is the only one I have. The backspace key and I are fairly good friends, seeing as how I probably use it more than any other key on my keyboard.

I am so grateful that I know how to type. I can’t imagine going back to the days before I knew how to do it. While I still struggle with my number keys (I don’t think I ever finished those lessons), I hardly ever think about my typing at all. I just do it, and that’s the way it should be.

Just imagine how different your computer experience would be if you couldn’t type. That’s why typing is so amazing.

- “I Want to Save You,” Leaving Through the Window: Something Corporate

Yesterday, I thought up at least five good topics to write about. Unfortunately, they all came to me while I was in front of the copier, and I didn’t write any of them down. So now I can’t remember.

Which means, of course, that I’m going to tell a story that maybe no one will find interesting.

This weekend, I got a new bed. Not really new, but new for me. My uncle’s father died last month, and he had two guest rooms, both with twin beds. When the house sold, I was given the “good” one, which was the newer of the two.

Yes, I realize a twin bed isn’t really moving up in the bed world. But, considering the bed I was sleeping on before was a day bed, I’ll take what I can get.

So, I set up the new bed, which involved taking apart the daybed and moving it into our new guest bedroom—before I moved back in, the room I’m in now was the guest bedroom. After putting the daybed back together in the new guest room, I moved the twin bed in, and for the first time since I moved back in, I have enough room in my room for all of my furniture. Since I can have the bed jutting out into the room, I have more wall space, and finally feel that when I go to bed, my bed isn’t going to fall apart
on me.

One of the side benefits of this room-reorganization is that I moved my yarn catch-all to the other side of the room. This necessitated my removing all of my yarn from the shelves and dumping it on the bed while I moved it to where I wanted it.

Jesus, I forgot I had so much yarn. Seriously, I have enough yarn for five full-sized projects, never mind the mass of lace-weight I have no plans for but have been secretly collection. Yarn enough for seven more pairs of socks. Good thing I like knitting socks.

I don’t think I’ll be buying any more yarn this year at all. Instead, I’m going to try to finish off all the projects I have on the needles now (expect to see that in a post near you soon), and then work on the projects I’ve had planned but haven’t started on.

Of course, this all depends on me not getting distracted by something, like the fall semester of school.

One of these days, I’m going to have to figure out how to read and knit complicated things at the same time.

- “Crooked Teeth,” Plans: Death Cab for Cutie

powered by ODEOAh, another podcast, not that anyone listens to these things.

If anyone was keeping count, we’re on number four, and we’ve reached the point in the program where in I have stopped the editing. I did not edit any of my recording, other than trying to ensure that everything is approximately at the same level of volume. Listening to it with my volume bar dead center on the laptop give me a not-too-loud podcast that is doesn’t have too many volume jumps.

The content for this podcast is rather tame. I spend a little bit of time on my birthday next month, more time on things I hate to see in public, and I spill the beans on a super-secret project with a super-secret name that I won’t spill because I haven’t bought the domain name yet.

There is music in this podcast, but most likely You won’t like it. Good thing it’s my podcast, huh? The music also has nothing to do with the podcast, but I thought it’d be a good way to break up the podcast into parts. As always, I’m open to suggestions for what to include as music (must be podsafe, as always), and I’ll check it out.

Music Included

• Uma Floresta - If You’re Singing By Yourself
• Circle in a Square - Feels Like a Sunday
• Ocean Alexander - Pertinent not Penitent

All music downloaded from Pod Safe Audio, and so you are welcome to download them as well.

That’s all I have for you. No links or anything, because I didn’t talk about anything link-able. As always, I welcome comments, either here, or you can leave me a voice comment through Odeo.

Now, any bets on how long until the next podcast?

- “Letters,” Nasty Little Thoughts: Stroke 9

I have wasted so much time this week, it’s not even funny.

I have been sucked into the time vortex that is IRC. Like many of America’s youth, I did spend a far bit of time in chat rooms when I was younger. I pretty much quit the scene at about fifteen, though, because at that time the rooms were filled with people flaming on other people.

I used to go into AOL chat rooms, ICQ chat rooms, and a web-based chat server that I can no longer remember the name of (but my screen name there was Green Turpentine —I always did like the obscure), but after awhile, it just wasn’t any fun. I didn’t meet any people I wanted to keep talking to, and surprisingly, I’m internet-shy. Same reason why I’m more likely to lurk than leave comments on other people’s sites. I’m never sure if people really want me there and want to hear my opinion.

However, since I joined 9rules, I thought I should try to be more social. I already read a bunch of network sites, but I started to make more of an effort at commenting. Derek and Ben seem to bare the brunt of my commenting, but I’ve been branching out. Maybe.

So, this IRC thing. Addictive. I figured out how to get into the 9rules room, and I really don’t ever want to leave. I have to say, this is the first time I’ve ever really felt comfortable in a chat room and involve myself in the conversation. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that I’ve talked to Nick from Greenr every morning this week—and sometimes at night too. At night, though, the room devolves into guys acting like twelve-year-olds.

In the morning, though, it’s good. Well, my morning. Depending on where everyone else is, it might be their night or something. I have to drag myself away from the computer to get any work done in the morning, because the conversation is generally pretty good.

Since I’m broke, I’m using an open source IRC chat client, Bersirc. There isn’t much documentation on it, but with a little bit of fiddling, it’s easy to figure out how to connect. However, I don’t know how to do any of the nifty stuff that other people do. Someone enlightened me on how to change my nickname while logged in ( /nick newnamehere), but I don’t know how to to the third person descriptions ( * lisa thinks it would be nice if people left comments), or how to insert what song is playing. In general, I don’t know much about anything.

Alongside IRC, I’ve been a forum junkie for a month or four now. First it was the getK2 forum,but now it’s the 9rules secret clubhouse. I don’t know why I’m addicted, but I am.

So, other than knitting and doing what little work I do, that’s what I’ve been up to. I didn’t really need another time sink, so I guess I’m going to have to learn how to budget my time. Ha. Like that’s ever gonna happen.

- “Down,” Blink-182: Blink-182

It might have taken me longer than I had estimated, but I really have finished the knitting on the two bags I had wanted to finish by the end of this weekend.

I finished knitting the purple bag while we were camping—actually started a new project and everything—but I didn’t finish the gray bag until Tuesday at work. Normally, I wouldn’t show a picture of half-finished things, but I wanted to get a good pictures of the cables while they were stretched out and blocking.

I really like the way the cables turned out on the Cleo clutch (gray). I didn’t mess up once I started over for the third time, and I even managed to do a cable row without a cable needle. I don’t recommend it, at least not for myself. However, Wendy has a great tutorial on how to do it.

The Heather bag (purple) I managed to cross a cable the wrong way while on a boat ride. Well, my parents were fishing. I was just along for the ride. I don’t know how I did it, but I caught it on the next cable round, and had to rip back to where I messed up. If I had Stephanie had posted her tutorial on how to fix a mis-twisted cable before I had left, I would have known what to do.

But, it’s very helpful to know for the next cable project, because it’s so frustrating to realize you messed up way back at the beginning and have to frog it all.

Cleo is waiting to be seamed and then felted. I’m a little worried about the felting process, since the last time I tried to felt a bag, it didn’t work out to well, and it’s shoved in the back of the yarn pile. I’m interested to see how the cables felt, though, so it will be a learning experience even if it all turns out like crap.

Heather is waiting to be seamed, a lining sewn with a zipper, and a strap knitted that I’m a little worried about. I am unsure how much the strap will stretch, or how much weight it will have to hold. I’ve never done a purse before, and so am in uncharted territory. And free of the pattern, since the pattern is for a 6″ x 6″ bag, and mine is 11″ x 11″.

I should do the felting this weekend, depending on how hot it is, how much laundrey there is, and what other chores get thrown my way. I feel like I’m 13 again on Saturdays, having to do all my chores before I get to have any fun.

- “She’s Electric,” (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?: Oasis

Brian over at Solution Watch has put together an awesome write up of web to-do lists. If you can’t find a way to manage your lists from the selection here, then maybe you’ll just have to write your own.

I really hate getting up in the morning. When the alarm on my phone goes off (twice), I’d rather roll over than get up.

It’s funny, though, because when I was little, I loved being up early in the morning, Especially since I went to summer school.

My sister and I would get up early and leave the house by 7:30, riding our bikes about half a mile to summer school. It was exciting to us because summer school wasn’t held at the school we attended, (which you could see entirely from our upstairs windows). Add to that the fact that we were on our own for the entire bike ride, and we were thrilled.

I’m feeling nostalgic for summer school this morning. When I walked outside to get in the car, the morning was nice and cool, with the birds chirping all around. It just reminded me off all the mornings I would hop on my bike with K and head off to take fun morning classes, which would be followed by an afternoon of swimming in the pool. Maybe it’s the thought of swimming that took me back.

Today is most likely going to top 100, and if I’m unlucky, today’s bus driver will feel just like yesterdays and not turn on the AC in the bus. I was miserable yesterday on the way home, and I’m not looking forward to a repeat performance. And I still won’t go swimming when I get home.

Our pool is nine and a half feet deep, and it’s really, really cold. It has a white bottom, so it never really warms up. When I was little, that didn’t really bother me. We’d just jump in and freeze for a minute or so while getting used to the temperature. Now it has to be really, really hot for me to get in the pool. Or Dustin has to be there.

I don’t enjoy swimming by myself, and since K doesn’t have time for me anymore, I don’t have a home-made swim partner around anymore. So, I miss summer school when we we didn’t have to work, and we could still have a real summer.

- “Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over,” Take This to Your Grave: Fall Out Boy

Camping is always a lot of fun, as long as everyone knows what to expect.

My family has it down, and so when we go camping for a weekend, or however long we’re gone, we’re all happy campers, even if there is no showers.

This weekend we went up to Jackson Meadows, which is a lake hidden up in the Sierra Mountains, about 37 miles from Truckee. Like many lakes in California, it’s actually a reservoir, meaning it’s a man-made lake in a chain of lakes created by dams. The lake is actually in the Tahoe National Forest, which is probably why my cousins,
brother, and uncle like it so much.

In the National Forest, you’re allowed firearms, and allowed to hunt and such, providing you follow the rules. Since half my family are hunters, it works out well for them. It’s also nice to be in an actual forest, since I love trees and all that. Although, there are bears up there, considering the bear-proof food boxes installed in every campsite.

Usually when we go camping, it’s not just our immediate family. My aunt and uncle usually go with us, as do their daughters and their extended family. There is usually at least 15 people, spread out across three sites, with two RV’s and a Camper, because we’re now spoiled.

Camping actually has a schedule, but no one really ever notices. The fishermen go fishing, while I sleep in. When they get back is around the time I get up (small children have been up for an hour or three, and are watching a movie in someone’s RV. I’m really against that, but they arn’t my kids), and we set out making breakfast. If it’s an all-inclusive breakfast for everyone, it might take an hour to make. If it’s individual camps, half an hour. Usually done with breakfast around 11, though. Then the fishermen might go back out, or if the lake is warm enough, water sports are an option. The little ones love tubing, and the older one ski, or are forced to learn.

If you’re not on a boat, your sitting around camp, doing something that entertains you. Either reading a book, or playing a game, or just talking. Lunch follows at about 2pm, and everyone’s down for a nap after that. Well, except me. I’ll keep reading or knitting or doing what ever I was doing before lunch. Dinner is after everyone’s awake, and the fishermen are back from the evening trip, usually around 8pm or so. Then sit around the campfire for a few hours, and off to bed. Rinse, lather, repeat.

It’s always the same, which is probably why I like camping so much. I know I’m going to have the whole afternoon to myself without interruption , and no one is going to wake me up in the morning since I hate fishing. Turning 16 was the best thing that ever happened to camping, since without a fishing license, they couldn’t make me go just to have another pole in the water.

I don’t particularly enjoy the addition of RV’s to the camping experience. We’ve had ours since I was 15 or so, and I almost never sleep in it. I prefer a tent and an air mattress (I’m not sleeping on the hard ground, that’s just silly), and only go in the RV to find food or something. The rest of the time I’m outside.

I do so enjoy camping, and we’re supposed to be going again the first weekend in July. Although, we’re not sure if the sites were really reserved for us, so we might have to find somewhere else to go. No big deal though, there’s plenty of places to camp in California.

So, that was my weekend, in a broad basic overview. How was yours?

- “Different Names For the Same Thing,” Plans: Death Cab for Cutie