GYSO Drawing Part 18 - Blue Yarn

Published: 2019-11-09

(This is a guest post written by Thor’s sister, Norea. I know, right? There will still be a regular post tomorrow. Enjoy the extra content, if you dare. -Tim)

Introduction

Tim:

Thor:

Norea: I can already draw well enough to impress my drunk friends so I thought I’d talk about knitting instead.

Learn your knitted socks off.

Knit your knitted socks off.

(Seriously though don’t try to knit socks unless you’re a professional.)

What went right?

Tim:

Thor:

Norea: I am, in this writing moment, knitting a scarf. Not simultaneously, unfortunately, but I digress. Scarves are actually a lot like life. I hate scarves. Yet here I am knitting one because I need one. It’s not like I asked for cold weather. I didn’t choose to live in this cold climate. But the burden of wind and potential pneumonia is still mine to bear. So I’m knitting a scarf.

Originally I was going to buy one, a really soft, big and luxurious one but then I had a good day and thought No! I can do this on my own. It is quite a simple scarf but I’m hoping it looks complex and beautiful and store bought and not at all home made.

The best part is the winding of the yarn into perfectly round balls. That’s the part I look forward to when knitting. That’s the part where everything is under control and it’s really difficult to screw things up. And when you’ve done it a few times you can do it really fast and then you look like you came out the womb with knitting needles and yarn in hand. So I wind the yarn and when it’s done I look down over my flawless yarn. That’s the point where it’s best to stop knitting.

What went wrong?

Tim:

Thor:

Norea: My mother taught me how to knit but she only taught me two moves [insert correct knitting lingo here]. So I did what any self respecting grown up would do and went on the internet. I found some instructions I liked and started following them blindly. By blindly I mean I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m not sure this is at all how the nice knitting internet-lady intended her wisdom to be used. But that’s fine because she’ll never see my scarf, and when you see it you’ll say Oh what a nice scarf you have there! and I’ll answer Thank you! It keeps the pneumonia away real nice. But then I won’t be able to control myself. I’ll unravel my insecurities for you to see like a badly wound ball of yarn and I’ll say I made it myself actually, and I’ll pull up a picture on my phone and shove it in your face and I’ll say Actually this is what it’s supposed to look like but I’m not very good at knitting, and I’ll point at all the spots and holes where I messed up and couldn’t fix it Here, look! This is wrong and this, and also here. Then you’ll say that it’s a very nice scarf anyway, I will think you a liar and you’ll make a mental note never to talk with me about knitting again because I make you uncomfortable and sad. Who knew knitting could have that effect? Well I sure knew because knitting makes me sad as well. I get sad when I mess up. Nobody taught me how to fix the mistakes and now there’s a big gap and it’s only a matter of time before it gives me pneumonia. Thanks mom. It’s fine to not look at the holes though, to ignore them. I promise I won’t judge you. You can pretend your scarf is evenly knitted and flawless and that you do have the skills to make something good and maybe people will believe you. It’s all about confidence really. You just need to keep your head high to pull the scarf off, to own it. But remember to not look at the holes. Alternatively you can just unravel the whole thing. Start over. But do you really have the patience and perseverance to make it through another round of blood boilingly irritating and boring scarf-knitting? Didn’t think so. You could go to the store and buy a scarf and pretend you didn’t even try to knit your own, that, in fact, you would never do something so stupid. Shove that scarf in the forgotten drawer at the bottom of the dresser where it belongs!

What happens next?

Tim:

Thor:

Norea: Well, the scarf is done. Please praise it and don’t look at the gaps. It will suffice, and if it doesn’t (and I die of pneumonia) please burn it on my grave. I’m off to knit myself a pair of mittens.

I hate mittens.