A bag

Been working on a knitting job and thought a good way to present the product would be to put it in a nice bag.

And since the sewing machine still needed some workout, I present next sewing project...a bag.


Wasn't particularly difficult or anything. All I had to do was cut it to size, fold it in half and sew up to two sides, leaving enough space at the end so that I can sew the fabric horizontally to put in strings and viola!


What's inside the bag? Will blog about it later. In the meantime, here's a sneak preview:

A sewing debut

My very first project on my sewing machine - just a simple headband.

It was an interesting experience though. It's been a while since I actually cut up pieces of fabric, measure them, pin them together and then run them through the sewing machine.



Pretty good effort, if I can say so myself!

Where are you from?

I have an identity crisis. My tongue swells up and I stutter whenever people ask me, "Where are you from?"

Do I tell them Singapore? Or do I tell them Australia?

It's not supposed to be a hard question, but things like "Is this a question of where I was born or where I'm currently living?" or "Will I seem like a fraud if I said Australia?"

And the thing is, I have tried saying Australia on several occasion, only to be asked a follow-up question, "But what is your heritage?"

This article reflects just how I feel about things.

"Where are you from?'' I am asked this regularly because I have an accent. Everyone has an accent, but mine isn't pure Australian; it has an American component.

What's wrong with being asked where you're from? Primarily, for me, it's boring. After 40 years of the same question, I'd rather talk about something else.

So I answer ''I'm from Wollongong'', which is true. I've lived in Wollongong since 1986, longer than I've lived anywhere else and longer than all my years in the United States.

But this seldom satisfies my questioners. ''But I detect a bit of an accent. Are you from Canada?'' Many Australians imagine that Canadians become upset if they are thought to be Americans. At this point I usually admit I'm from the US. But often that is not enough.

''What part of the US?''

I can obfuscate and say from several places (true), or be more precise and say Oklahoma. I lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for 11 years but have not visited the state for the past 40, so it hardly seems like home. All my relatives left decades ago.

Finally, after years of being annoyed by such questions - always well meant, of course - I realised that for some reason it is socially acceptable to question someone about their origins based on their accent, even though commenting on other inferences is off limits.

Imagine being introduced to someone and having the nerve to ask ''How old are you?'', then, when the person demurs or deflects, persisting: ''But I noticed wrinkles around your eyes that make me think you're over 40.''

Imagine meeting someone and asking ''How much do you weigh?'', then, when the person tries to avoid answering, persisting: ''But you look like you're over 80 kilos.''

Imagine meeting someone and asking ''How much money do you make?'', then, when the person declines to answer, persisting with comment about the quality of their clothes.

These scenarios are unlikely. It's usually considered impolite to ask strangers their age, weight, income, religion or hair colour, even though you can guess by simple observation.

So why is a stranger's accent fair game? Why is it OK to ask about their origin but not about their weight or age?

I don't know the answer. My main interest is in changing the conversation without being offensive. So far my best response is: ''Where are you from?'' That shifts the focus from me to my conversation partner - far more interesting to me.

by Brian Martin

And they say Macs don't crash...

The brand new Mac that I had to get for work decided to stop working about a week after I got it.

It didn't crash per se, it just refused to turn on. Nothing I did could wake it up. And for those smart alecs out there, the computer was plugged into the power socket that was turned on. It had full battery power.

Took it in to be serviced (and what is this about having to personally bring Macs in to a service centre? Dell sent their representatives to my office when I had problems with my old PC!) only to be told a week later that after the repair guy spent three hours installing the new part, it was still faulty.

So now I have to wait for another new part to arrive for the repair guy to try again. In the meantime, I'm trying to get work done on my PC.

And if when the Mac is repaired, I have to drive 30 minutes to the service centre to pick it up.

Dodgy service, dodgy product...what is the big deal about Macs?

A winter package

So I haven't exactly been doing nothing ;)

Have been busy over the last month making up a winter package for a friend, comprising items based on what is sold in the shop as well as some commissioned projects.

And since she's received the package, I can finally blog about it!

Baby spaghetti (based on the original spaghetti)



Evangeline (Ravelry link)


Meret



Rosa neckwarmer (based on the Banana neckwarmer)

Taking roots

I am still very much alive, but between getting my permanent residency application finalised and starting a new job, all has been a little hectic.

The dust is starting to settle though. I'm in my new job for about a month now and loving it.

But best of all, I now have this in my passport:


Hopefully the insights will henceforth start to flow again.

Pinkleaf hat

I really do apologise for my lack of "thoughtfulness" lately.

Life has been a little hectic. Between getting sick, going for doctor's appointments, work, organising my permanent residency application and all, I haven't really had time to stop and ponder.

Ok, not true. I've had time to ponder. I just haven't had time to write it out.

I've really been concentrating more on the shop and knitting lately, which explains the content of recent posts. And yes, today's post is no difference, but will hopefully score on the cute factor.


Just a very very simple pattern for a baby hat, topped by a really cute leaf detail.


Pattern here.

His royal cuteness

Mary Jane booties

It's a little like baby-ville around here at the moment.

No, I'm not pregnant or have any plans to, but people all around me will probably be popping "mini-me"s over the next few months.

So it's time for some baby knitting practice!

Knitting baby stuff is actually quite easy. For starters, they're small, which means the project is finished in no time. And they're always so adorable!


I knitted bobbles to be used as buttons.

The only problem with this pattern is that it required seaming and well, let's just say I need more practice doing that.

Contemplating adding a beanie to the mix. We'll see.

Pattern here (pdf file)

Polka pen holder

I finally recently acquired a desk for my bedroom for a sewing machine that I acquired and realised that I probably needed a way of organising all the various stationery better than simply allowing them to be strewn all over the tabletop.

That was when I knew there was a reason why I didn't allow my housemate's used biscuit tin to be thrown away.



Viola! A free and pretty pen holder!


New pen holder in its permanent home.


For those wondering, I do not have a crush on the girl on my pin board. What I do like about her however, is that skirt she's wearing that I'm contemplating replicating.

Lace rib scarflette

Now that I've been knitting for over a year, I've been able to understand the basics of knitting and so have been able to adapt and create my own designs.

Found this lace rib pattern in the Vogue Stitchionary and knew it would be perfect for this scarflette.


The simple pattern and short length meant that I hardly spent any time knitting this thing up and yet, biased as I am, I have to say it looks gorgeous.

I'm really enjoying being able to design my own knitted stuff. I just wish I had more time to do so.

You can own this scarflette!

Dorset buttons

Made with leftover yarn scraps and plastic ring things. Aren't they cute?

The question now though is: what should I do with them for the shop?

Attach them to the end of snap clips ala this (it will replace the flower)?

Transform them into earrings (only issue - they are not reversible, so one side looks better than the other)?

Use as a necklace pendant?

Sew them onto scarves/beanies?

Do you have any suggestions?

Balibo

A good movie should do one of three (or in the rare occasion, all three) things:

- Entertain by providing a form of escapism
- Demonstrate an innovative and creative way of telling a story
- Educate, inform and provoke

Balibo has not achieved all three, but only because the issue of the Indonesian invasion of East Timor in 1975 is neither entertaining nor a period in history that someone would want to escape to.

What Balibo succeeded in however, is telling a story that left me wanting to research more on an invasion that happened before I was born and determined to share the message that justice and the respect of human rights must prevail.

The last movie that had such an impact on me was more than four years ago.

For the first 20 minutes of the show, the narrative was somewhat confusing, jumping from present day to the past and the not too distant past. But the pace picked up when Roger East (Anthony LaPaglia) started his investigations in East Timor and by then, it was easy to differentiate the narrative that mainly toggled between Roger's story and that of the Balibo Five.

It's a gripping storyline, not least because it is based on a true story, but also because it tells of a journalist's thirst for The Story and a commitment to tell a story to the rest of the world in the hopes of spurring positive action and reaction.

The Balibo Five are five news journalists from two competing Australian television channels who went missing in Balibo, an East Timor town close to the Indonesian border, days before the invasion.

Their story is one of courage and of the desire to communicate to the global community just what is happening in a part of the world that even the United Nations had chosen to ignore.

Three weeks later, Roger arrives in East Timor, tracing the footsteps of the Balibo Five, in an attempt to find out what exactly happened to them.

His story changed his life, and probably mine, forever.

There were intense moments, scary moments and emotional moments. But most of all, it was a provocative moment. A moment that made you want to shake the international community for making the mistakes in East Timor, in Rwanda, in Darfur and never learning from them. A moment that made you recognise the simple power of words, the responsibility we have to tell a story worth telling and the world's apathetic state.

You see the brutality of mankind. You see how the rest of the world turned a blind eye. You see the sacrifice made by those who wanted to tell the truth.

And you tell yourself, human rights atrocities should never happen again.

Want to do something about this?

Find out more about the movie or how to protect human rights.

Twisted faggot

You thought this post would be about something else didn't you?

The reason for this scarf's rather unfortunate name has nothing to do with my sick sense of humour.

The scarf is a combination of a twisted dropped stitch and a faggot stitch. Hence its name. And besides, in its original form, faggot simply means:

a bundle of sticks, twigs, or branches bound together and used as fuel, a fascine, a torch, etc.

And that's what the stitch looks like:


Knitted this with my favourite type of yarn - alpaca. Although, I wasn't too sure about the mohair texture initially, but the whole thing is still incredibly soft and non-itchy.

I love how light the scarf weighs and feels, and how cosy it is around my neck. And it hardly used any yarn at all, which means I have enough left over to make another!

I combined two stitch patterns designed this scarf for a lady who has a stall at The Rocks markets, so maybe, just maybe, you'll see this scarf for sale very soon!

You can own this scarf!

Spring refresh

I knew I had to do something about this graphic when I first saw it, it was simply too gorgeous to pass up.


A quick look around and it was obvious my pin board needed a sprucing.


So four A3 printed copies later:



A new happy beautiful pin board for spring!

Pelican attack!

Excellence in mediocrity

This is a typical day on the ski fields for me:


No, I am not exhausted from carving white powder all day.

I'm just pretty much passed out from all the contact my bottom has made with the snow. In the last hour.

I took my first snowboard lesson back in 2006 and I'm proud to say that I have managed to return home after almost every single snowboard outing with strange bruises in strange places.

In 2006, I got hit on the back of my head by the chairlift after I ungracefully fell when trying to get off.

In 2008, I mysteriously managed to sprain my ankle despite wearing solid snowboard boots that are meant to protect one's ankles from that precise injury.

This year, I could not even remember how I ended up where I did because I took a tumble so fast I'm sure I blacked out for a few mircro-seconds (I also had really bad whiplash the next day). I also amazingly bruised my spine with my board when I did a face plant.

I still cannot go up a J-bar and T-bars are only possible when I can cling on to D for balance.

This is unlike my friend J who took a morning, yes, one morning, to learn how to snowboard. He did not take lessons. He taught himself. And he's good - the morning I went boarding with him, I'm sure I fell at least 10 times compared to his, well, he didn't fall.

Maybe it's because he's an accomplished skier. Or maybe it's because I suck.

Oh, I can get off a chairlift now without losing balance and I can go down a slope without falling. But I'm not the fastest boarder on the slopes and give me an icy patch and you'll have a really enjoyable time seeing my fall over again and again. I don't do S-turns very well and I hate going down a slope backwards.

I guess I'm what you call mediocre.

I'm mediocre at snowboarding, I'm mediocre at touch football, I'm mediocre at driving, I'm mediocre at knitting, I'm mediocre at my job....heck, I'm medicore in the way I look and the way I dress too.

And when I think about just how mediocre I am, my self-esteem takes a big hit.

But what is it about us and society that we only celebrate the biggest, the fastest and the best? We have Olympic records, we have the Guinness book of records, we have all sorts of records to recognise excellence in (insert appropriate category here).

The problem with wanting to be the best/biggest/fastest is that somewhere and some time down the line, someone will beat you at it. And then what?

And it's our innate need to constantly compare ourselves to others that will invariably let us down. When we see how well others perform, our mediocrity becomes even more glaring.

But is being mediocre all that bad?

I still like to snowboard, particularly when I start gaining speed down the slopes and know that I'm still in full control.

I still enjoy touch football, if only because I get to laugh and have fun with friends.

I still drive a car that I can actually afford and have not been the cause of any accidents.

I still love knitting because it gives me an avenue to explore my creativity.

So what if I'm mediocre in everything I do?

I may not win awards, prizes or commendation for my efforts, but I know how good it feels to laugh, to feel your cheeks flushed from running and to truly experience life.

And if that's not enough, I know I excel in mediocrity and my mum is still my biggest fan.

Humility

I suppose this can be considered a follow-up post to the one on nit-picking.

As mentioned, letters that are written simply to point out a mistake that cannot be rectified annoy me. They serve no purpose but to hurt, criticise and condemn.

But then, an epiphany from someone else whose life is probably spent on the firing line more than myself.

"All the hate mail and sarcastic mail I receive keeps me humble and remind me that we're broken people."

And it's true. I get annoyed because of the pride I have in myself, in my work. If I didn't care, I wouldn't have a reaction.

But this is not about not being proud of what you have achieved.

It's simply a reminder to extend grace and patience and that as a Christian, my mission is to reach out to these broken humans and place them in the hands of God.

The good life

Nit-picking

When you read a typo or a mistake in an email or a published article, do you feel an insatiable need to send a letter to the writer, telling them that they've done something wrong?

I'm not talking about factual mistakes that determines the tone/bias/information of an article. I'm talking about simple things, like a bracket that shouldn't have been in a hyperlinked URL, or a slight grammatical mistake that has no impact on the sentence whatsoever because it still gets the message across.

What do you do?

Do you ignore the problem? Do you laugh it off? Do you take five minutes out of your life to write a non-constructive critical letter to the writer telling them their mistake? A mistake that they literally cannot rectify? This is not about an online article that can be easily edited, this is about either a printed article or an email that has been sent and can no longer be retrieved.

It's a phenomena that interests me. Why people feel the need to point out someone's mistakes, even after knowing full well that it's happened and that nothing can be done. And it reeks strongly of condemnation, not constructive criticism.

But that's just like human nature isn't it? We're often quick to accuse and slow to forgive.

Nevermind that the only thing you'd achieve is absolutely annoying the writer, you just have to do something to prove that you're someone that's much better, or more perfect than them.

And it happens in our relationships as well. If someone has offended us or said the wrong thing to us, we delight in telling them exactly what they should not have done, even after they've apologised and sought forgiveness.

We can't seem to simply move on.

No wonder we find it so hard to accept the fact that God's grace is all encompassing, that God is not going to rub our sins in our faces and that God will readily forgive us with no remembrance of the past.

We can't see past the examples that we are, and the behaviour of others.

What are your reactions when someone makes a mistake?

The follow-up