Sometimes, it's really difficult to know when something has ended. Sometimes, it's really difficult to express why something has ended.
In romantic relationships, it's pretty simple to define. But what about when a platonic relationship ends? What about when you're just not friends any more?
And how do you know if you've ever really been friends?
And does that matter?
I've known this woman for at least six years. We helped each other move a couple of times. We spent a lot of time on the phone, visiting with mutual friends, at gatherings together. The last couple of years we've drifted apart pretty seriously. I've tried to tell her that a friendship is just like any other relationship in that it needs at least a little nurturing to survive, but she doesn't seem to understand that, or doesn't seem to care. It makes me very sad.
So I think that at this point, the friendship is over. I've tried to reach out to her several times in the last couple of months, and while she hasn't rebuffed me or outright said anything, she's avoided responding. It makes me very sad. At some point, the drift became irreparable. She made an offhand comment that hurt me very deeply and she didn't understand why it hurt me. Sometimes if you have to explain, you shouldn't.
I'm sucking at explaining this. I can't put it into adequate words. I've lost someone in my life who was important to me, and it feels like I just wasn't important enough to her to make any sort of effort. Looking back, it seemed like every time we talked, if it wasn't about her, it became about her. I'd call her with a problem or a sadness or an issue and soon, we'd be talking about her problems or issues or sadnesses. I always felt like I was never quite "cool" enough for her, like I was marginal. I guess I built up some resentment behind that. So, there it is. I'll survive. And I have no doubt she'll survive, too.
On a happier note, Bob and I went to see Hollywoodland last night. Very deep movie. Very good. Very sad, and thought provoking. Some of the acting was downright amazing, especially Diane Lane and Adrien Brody. What is it about Adrien Brody that I find so fascinating? He looks like a male k.d. lang with a really big nose. But damn, that boy can act. His face is incredibly expressive. Incredibly sad. I recommend seeing it, but only if you don't like your movies wrapped up in neat little packages.
On to the fibrous things.
This is a big ball of "Ecological Wool" by Cascade in Silver.
It's destined to be, I hope, two "Irish Hiking Scarves", one for an uncle and one for my former cubemate from my old office location. It looks like a simple cable project and I think I can do it. This is a lot more yarn than I thought it was when I bought it!
The baby alpaca that I posted a couple of weeks ago has begun transformation into a lace shawl. Well, lacy, at least. I hestiate to call it actual lace because the pattern is so easy, only a four row repeat.
It's about 20 rows now. Maybe a little more. We nearly had a disaster last night when we returned from the movies. Miss Lily, our innocent one, grabbed it out of the project box (where I had irresponsibly left it on the floor) and ran off with it. I didn't even notice, Bob found it on the bed. Fortunately, no real damage was done. It was slightly damp, a little misshapen, and had a big loop of yarn pulled out, but it all went back into shape with minimal effort.
The second sock of my third trial pair is coming down the homestretch....
These are very loosely stitched-I think a size 2 needle would have been better. Ones were too small, threes are too large. Duh. But at any rate, in honor of that and also to have something else small started, I cast on the first steeler sock.
Someday, I'm going to try toe-up socks. Maybe next. I got the Schurch book that my friend M recommended and it seems very good... in another language. I can't quite interpret it yet. I am but an egg.
Monday is my cardiac stress test. I am not looking forward to this. In fact, I may cancel out of it. The more I think about it, the less I want a radioactive element injected into my body. And I am 98% sure there is nothing wrong with my heart. The more I read up on Cushing's Syndrome and excess cortisol, the more convinced I am that it's the real problem. On that note, I am going to get a list of things written up to take to the doctor on Monday, because I will NOT allow him to steamroll me. And I'm still damn mad about that MRI incident.
Chitchat and the occasional in-depth analysis about fiber, knitting, spinning, crochet, cooking, feminism, self-image, and a modicum of personal blathering.