You are currently browsing the Breaching The Web blog archives for September, 2006.


September 14th, 2006

I’ve been talking to a couple of my friends about engagement. Not the period before one gets married, but being “into” a thing, owning it, and living in it in a very deep, connected way. I am a serial engager — I get into things, learn all I can about them, live in and with them, and then move on. These things are often crafty — crochet, knitting, quilting, artist trading cards. But often they are not — Star Wars (the original trillogy, thank you very much), Star Trek, various online forums, postcards. I get very enthusiastic about these things very quickly, and while engaged, I am very committed to them.

I am a dork.

So I got very excited when I read Sars’ rant about dork cool.

Because, for me, it comes down to the fact that dorkiness, or nerdiness, or whatever term you want to use, isn’t a trend. Calling it a state of mind instead seems rather overly grand, but I think it’s possible to dork out about anything — even if it’s something “cool” like Italian film or Kate Spade — because it’s that idea of looking to that thing, that signifier, to let you belong because that thing belongs to you, horses, baseball, Broadway, Harry Potter, Risk, loving it as though it will love you back, without apologizing for it or winking at anyone who might be watching you.

Dork levels of engagement are not cool, and people are often embarassed or ashamed of it. It’s frustrating when dorks and non-dorks cooperate on dorky endeavors — I was extremely unhappy when Star Wars (A New Hope) was re-released (this was before the special edition), and I went to see it with a bunch of non-dorks on opening night and they treated it like a lark. I felt unreasonable levels of anger over that, and at the time, I couldn’t understand why it was so frustrating or why I was so upset.

One of the things I am trying to learn is that non-dorks will never understand dorkiness. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, it just means that there’s a certain barrier between us. It’s like a language barrier. You have to translate everything in order to communicate, but however good that translation is, the barrier is still there. It shapes the way we think and feel and react — and that’s important, both to help dorks understand non-dorks, but also to help us understand ourselves.

Madness, expanded

September 7th, 2006

I haven’t felt much like blogging lately. Everything I think of to write about seems trite, boring, or useless. This happens to me occassionally. I’m sure I will snap out of it.

What I’ve been doing instead is ceaselessly crafting. I’ve embroidered bibs and pillowcases and artist trading cards and tea towels. I’ve knit dishclothes. I’ve won a champion ribbon at my county fair for a shawl I knit last year. I’ve been working on two quilts — one in the cutting stage, and one in the piecing stage. I’ve been frantically keeping my hands busy!

And speaking of quilting — I’m working on a quilt that will have 2,880 little squares in it. The pattern is called postage stamp, becuase it’s made out of postage stamp sized pieces. I want it to have at least 75 different fabrics in it — I’d be happier if it had 100 or even more fabrics. So if you have a little bit of 100% cotton fabric (at least 1.5×1.5 inches) you can spare, I’d gladly trade you something for it — fabric, handmade postcards, artist trading cards, even a handknit dishcloth (for a bigger piece) whatever we can work out. It could be quilt fabric, an old shirt, a bit of an old sheet, whatever — as long as it is 100% woven (not knit) cotton.

Update: Since posting this message I won an auction on e-Bay for 6 pounds of new quilting fabric scraps, ranging in size from 2×2 inches to 45×15 inches. In the pictures I conservatively counted 65 different fabrics, so there are probably many more. So suddenly I have a wealth of different fabrics rather than too few, and I really don’t need to trade anymore. Funny how fast things can change. Thanks very much to those who offered, or who were thinking of offering.


September 5th, 2006

I used to be a big fan of theCrockodile Hunter. The animals were interesting, and Steve Irwin was funny and engaging. I stopped watching because the format (Steve tells us about an exotic animal, then picks it up), got a bit old for me. But every time I come across Irwin, I stop and watch for a moment — he’s charismatic.

But now it appears that he’s dead, from an encounter with a sting-ray in Australia. It’s a very sad, and I feel for his family. It’s so random.