Going.....somewhere

Warning: introspection ahead. To go directly to fibre, scroll down to the start of the photos.

Still here? Today's brilliant insight: It's slowly dawning on me that I may not have a tremendous lot of success figuring out what to do next with my life until I understand and accept (I've managed to avoid that one for 38 years) who I am.

My original, unshakable career goal ran something along the lines of: go to medical school, head off to a third world country and save it from war, poverty and disease, die young (and gloriously). This was based on two (possibly unsound) premises: Firstly, that being fundamentally unworthy, only a really BIG achievement could justify my existence, and secondly, that I was going to be alone forever. (Number 2 seemed logical, having spent my teen years at the rock bottom of the social pecking order, possibly due to my utter inability to integrate into mainstream WASP culture after being an "ex-pat" Canadian from birth to age 12.)

It's just a little disconcerting to contemplate the possibility that my Shining Destiny was actually the product of low self-esteem, poor social skills and a not so subtle death wish.

The Big Goal did serve a purpose, though - like a giant booster rocket, it overcame the sucking gravity of despair, blazed through cloying layers of depression and social phobia, and (perhaps most usefully) scattered the insecure bullying men which my upbringing predisposed me to choose.

Along the way (and to my everlasting astonishment) I acquired a happy, healthy marriage and two beautiful children (so much for eternal loneliness). I made it to "doctor", but never quite managed saving the world. And now I'm adrift - the rockets are spluttering out, their job complete - and for the first time in my life I have no idea where I'm going.

Enough of that.


This (the little steek vest) is several rows into the armhole shaping and zipping along at an almost indecently speedy pace. I've snuck in a few extra rounds here and there for length insurance, since I have a long torso, but have otherwise followed the pattern exactly. And since I'm up to the armholes and have half the yarn left, I'm going to tempt fate and stop worrying that the extras will cause me to run out before I'm done.

Clearly I did not worry enough when ordering yarn for the tunic (what earthly good is Generalized Anxiety if you still run out of yarn?), but I am counting on this to save me:
I have only a vague (but brilliantly artistic) notion of how it is going to go. Which may change radically once I get started. Stay tuned.