When I was in middle school, my mom asked me why I didn't want to play basketball. The answer was simple; I didn't want to sweat and make mistakes in front of people. She still laughs about that retort. The majority of my childhood was spent at the dining room table, beading, painting, sewing, and bedazzling. And even though I've heard that during a show, opera singers have been known to shed upwards of 5 pounds under the hot lights, I've never reached that level of exertion onstage. I'm just a generally stationary person.
Until now.
As of late I've realized that my knitting ability, if not extensive, is at the very least, sorta fast. My canvas tote reads "La Tejedora," which loosely translates to "The Knitting Machine." This is a title I can live up to. I'm ready to compete.
I was reading the latest installment of the Yarn Harlot's blog, where she challenged sporting fiber artists to a pledge in the spirit of the Winter Olympics. The Fourth of July knitted cotton dishtowels on KrisKnits blog have piqued my interests since the beginning of the year. This is my project of choice. I have taken the pledge, and I quote:
The Knitting Olympics Athletes Pledge
I, a knitter of able hands and quick wits, to hereby swear that over the course of these Olympics I will uphold the highest standard of knitterly excellence. -This means that I won't ignore little mistakes, and I won't cheat. Marky caught me doping last night. Well, it was doping as far as my start time. I was really supposed to start no sooner than the lighting of the cauldron, and I got a dose of instant karma when my cast-on row turned out to be the short end of the yarn. I pulled it out and waited patiently for the Great One to light up.
I will be deft of hand and sure of pattern, I will overcome troubles of yarn overs and misplaced decreases. I will use the gifts of intelligence and persistence (as well as caffeine and chocolate) and I will execute my art to the highest form, carrying with me the hope for excellence known to every knitter. -Giving myself a manageable pattern is borderline cheating. I will finish, though, and I'll do it perfectly. I shall not ignore purl/knit mixups.
I strive to win. To do my best, and to approach the needles with my own best effort in mind, without comparing myself to my fellow knitters, for they have challenges unique to them. -I won't look at the patterns that other knitters are attempting until I'm finished with my own. Some people have more expertise, more time, and more money for better yarn. I'm going to make something beautiful and useful with what I have in front of me.
While I engage in this pursuit of excellence and my own personal, individual best, I also swear that I will continue to engage with my family in conversation, care for my pets, speak kindly with those who would ask me to do something other than knit, and above all, above every stitch thrown or picked, above every cable, every heel stitch, every change of colour, I swear this: -This is a tough one for me. I like to complain. I'll curb the kvetching and remember my ability to keep myself occupied through all the dull times.
That I will remember that this is not the real Olympics, that I'm supposed to be having fun and that my happiness and self-worth ride not on my success... but on my trying. -Okay, I really want to fully succeed. I should be allowed to strive to finish. But whatever life throws my way, I will be happy with the end product. I will have fun.
A side effect of this challenge was that I watched most of the opening ceremonies last night. I never do this. Due to my ignorance of last summer's extravaganza, my opinion of Vancouver's effort is no less than perfect. I got genuinely choked up during KD Lang's Hallelujah, even though I feared the song's emotional fruit had been squeezed dry by JT and Matt Morris' Haiti performance. Other highlights for me included Donald Sutherland's hair matching perfectly with his white suit, the floor turning from ground into a river, and that beat poet standing up for the word "Zed."
Now, who will judge me and give me a suitable medal?
A side effect of this challenge was that I watched most of the opening ceremonies last night. I never do this. Due to my ignorance of last summer's extravaganza, my opinion of Vancouver's effort is no less than perfect. I got genuinely choked up during KD Lang's Hallelujah, even though I feared the song's emotional fruit had been squeezed dry by JT and Matt Morris' Haiti performance. Other highlights for me included Donald Sutherland's hair matching perfectly with his white suit, the floor turning from ground into a river, and that beat poet standing up for the word "Zed."
Now, who will judge me and give me a suitable medal?
