Yesterday I had what one of my friends quite accurately described as "A Day". I left work feeling angry, confused, trapped, and belittled. Not exactly a feeling you want after a meeting with your boss. The gist of the problem was that I see my job as just that, a job. A way to pay the bills, a way to get the stuff I need in life. I have a life outside of work. And that life is the life of a knitter.
I never thought I would pick up a hobby that would one day define who I was more than the job I worked out. But all I have to do is look around to confirm it: My bookshelves hold more yarn than books and I own more needles than pairs of shoes. I know more than is healthy about fiber; be it wool, cotton, angora, alpaca, linen, man made... I love to look at, feel, and smell yarn. I like to experiment with dye. I like to fiddle with designs. I get up early just to have an extra 20 minutes of time with my hot tea and my latest project. I stay up an extra hour just so that the last thing I feel between my fingers is the smooth glide of a stitch. I have projects in my purse, by the couch, in a special bag, and stuck in a basket on the coffee table. My stash doesn't exceed my life expectation but that doesn't mean I'm not working on it.
My job may pay the bills. It may put gas in the car. But my hobby is who I really am. And one day, I hope to be able to combine my love for all things knitting into a career.
On Sunday a friend of mine made a harmless jab about knitting and I jokingly shot him a look. He started laughing, not in a mean way, but in a disbelieving and yet, a suddenly enlightened way. When I asked why he was laughing he said, "I didn't realize that knitting was such a serious business."
Yep, it sure is.