Blocking.
Of course, I have absolutely no idea how to sew "T" pieces together (you know, T instead of II; perpendicular instead of parallel). I already tried to sew the first sleeve in about six times and ripped it out every time 'cause it looked like ass. I decided it would probably be smart to block both sleeves at the same time anyway (to make certain they're both wrong wrong WRONG in exactly the same way).
At least I have some time before the next frost...
All in the course of a split second:
1. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauugh!!!!!
2. Holy shit, I'm dying!
3. No wait, I ate beets last night...
I was tagged by Hoi-en (and then Patrick) to detail the reasons why I blog. The dealio is supposed to be five reasons, but I've never been very good at following the letter of the law, so here, rather than a numbered list, is more a generalized explanation.
Blogging is really many things to me, but as I noted in my first entry in March 2000, it's mostly a public diary for me. At some points it's more diary, at some points it's just getting down some random thought, and at some points (mostly when I'm lazy), it's more simple public exhibition. And when I'm really *really* lazy I post a link to something funny.
I diarize to take snapshots of specific events, things that are memorable at the time and that I want to keep active in memory. You can tell when I'm getting serious when I adopt a fiction-writing sort of format, mostly, because I read a lot of fiction and this format is familiar to me, but also because I feel that I'm better able to capture things like dialogue and pacing that way. It's also great practise for the book I'll never write.
I diarize publicly because I think that we're too private, in some ways, which is something of a non-sequitur for someone who is in general a pretty private person. I'm admittedly determined not to give "the man" more information than he needs (I never give my phone number to the cashier at Winner's, for example, and never, ever speak to telemarketers except to tell them to remove me from their calling list). I fully acknowledge the right to privacy, but I also think that we all could benefit from getting further into each other's heads, to walk a mile, or ten feet, in another person's shoes. This is why I try to post things sometimes that make me uncomfortable... that are too personal. To try to give someone that little bit of what it's actually like in my shoes, and not just what my PR image is all about.
I'm a private person, but I also manage to simultaneously believe the world would be a vastly better place if we were all telepathic... if there were no way to hide. So many terrible things in the world happen, and continue happening, because they are secret. Lots and lots of people do bad things when they think no one is looking. Telepathy could change all that. Blogging is where it all could start.
So how many things is that?
1. to keep a diary
2. to organize random thoughts
3. to practise writing
4. to become telepathic
Hmmm... need one more if I'm going to be a follower.
5. oh yeah... to show off my bum
First off, the language is all backwards, where a positive result is about as negative as they come, and a negative result is, well... not.
I went in for an HIV test. I was asked if I wanted a rapid test or to wait two weeks for a lab blood test. The only downside to the rapid test seemed to be that a positive result would have to be verified with a lab blood test. Okay, it seemed straightforward enough... I chose to know right away and risk having to confirm a result. Climbing has somewhat thickened the skin on my fingertips, so the finger pricking to pull the tiny amount of blood required for the rapid test was more prolonged then expected, but eventually it was managed, and the volunteer at the clinic took my tiny vial of blood away to run the test. I passed the time while I was waiting for him to come back by hyperventilating. Okay, maybe not that bad. Counting my heartbeat in my throbbing temples, maybe... stuff like that.
Then he came back in, and it was clear. Evident. Frightening. From the way he sat down and looked at me I could tell. There it was. There was a problem. Except that there was only one problem that was possible here... two possible results, one good and one bad. So if there was a problem, then that was it. I felt it run through me like an electric shock. The cold certainty that I was HIV positive.
"Remember when I explained the test results?" he asked. "One dot for negative, and two dots for positive." I nodded, unable to speak. "You have one dot..." he said, showing me the test kit. I looked at the single dot and sighed deeply. I had been wrong! Everything was fine!
"...and a very faint second dot."
I looked more closely, and noticed what he was talking about. Only barely visible was a very faint second dot. The bad dot.
"We call that a 'shadow positive'," he explained, "and it almost never happens." All the fun, always for me. "We have no idea what this result means. We can do another rapid test if you like, but we'll have to do a lab test regardless to confirm." I didn't really see the point of running another rapid test if I had to wait for a lab result anyway, so he pulled a vial of blood, gave me a pamphlet on testing positive to help me prepare "just in case" and I left the clinic to try and continue with my life until I got the result of the lab test.
Really, at this point I was completely convinced that I was positive, even without the lab test. I had incredibly and increasingly wild scenarios running through my head. I would not only never be able to have any kind of sex again, I might be unable to go out in public at all. I wouldn't be able to cook for anyone in case I cut myself, wouldn't be able to have a roommate in case I slipped in the shower, wouldn't be able to climb in case I bled on something or someone, wouldn't be able to hold a baby in case we both somehow fell and suffered some kind of joint and messy damage. Life would, essentially, be over.
I worked through scenarios in my head for sticking to my new drug régime. I embraced the idea of celibacy (as I still couldn't believe that sex would ever again be possible). I worked out what it would cost to join the drug plan at work, and spent some time reviewing my current insurance plan, as I knew that applying for another would no longer be possible. Then I started really getting scared, waking nightmares where I accidentally infected friends and family. I could live, you see, with the idea of being infected myself, but not with the idea of infecting someone else. Then, slowly but surely, I managed to scale back the panic; to get something of a grip. I read the pamphlet, found out more about real risk of transmission, remembered that I rarely hold babies while tightrope-walking over a forest of razor blades, and decided that being positive would be manageable, if still far from ideal. Some part of my life would still be possible.
Returning for the result of the lab test seemed almost pointless, but I showed up regardless, as confirmation was the next step in the big plan. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips as I waited in the waiting room of the clinic. My name was finally called, by the same gentle, calm, reassuring volunteer, and he led me into the office and closed the door. Before even sitting, he turned to me and said, "Your lab result was negative," and handed me the result from the lab. I looked at him, confused, and tried to read the piece of paper in my hands. None of it made any sense, though. He watched, clearly concerned, as I tried to put it all together. "It's all right," I tried to reassure him. "It's just that I... I was really very prepared to hear... another answer."
I went back for another test, 14 weeks after the first test. Had another lab test. Tested negative again.
I might be ready to believe it this time. Maybe tomorrow, even.
Saturday was my birthday, and to tell the truth I was getting pretty annoyed. Sure, sure... great dinner, great parties, great friends - even many cakes! - are all fantastic indeed, but whenever I was asked how old I was no one looked at all surprised. WTF? At least polite disbelief would be nice! Then yesterday I was climbing with Francesca and she was (or was at least nice enough to pretend to be) shocked when she found out I was 41. Said she had thought I was much younger than that. I hadn't even really realized how much I wanted to hear that until it happened. ;) I mean I have all the internal validation stuff going on and all, so I don't, you know, need the external validation stuff. But yo, it's still nice to have!
Addendum: Lee Ann says "And hey, if you're asking for validation, then you should be posting a pic of yourself so we can all say, whoa, baby, that's one hot 41-year-old!" So here's me playing Twister on Saturday:
Addendum 2: The socks are the Mamluke socks from "Folk Socks" by Nancy Bush, and they were knit by Stephanie. Thanks for noticing!