Shall I stay or shall I go?

I've written a resignation email and saved it in 'drafts'. Shall i send it?

Productive yarn day

I spent my Saturday with friend A and friend J, about a thousand kids and a big pile of unlabeled yarn. I go to bed with only my own two children, who, at this moment, are being very good and playing nicely for once, and 16 skeins of labeled yarn.

This is an exsample and, as you can see, you do not just get a fantastic skein of hand spun but also a hand crafted flower with a button that is made from handspun yarn and is slightly eccentric due to it being made out of random ends from other skeins!
I had a lot of help thinking up names and descriptions for all my random colour mixes. It was fun and a bit silly.
Here is some yarn drying on the back of my door.

And this is my favorite

 

 

It's called Space Rocks.

Maybe a warning

So the next post down contains some sexual stuff, maybe a bit violent. Don't read if offended by this kind of stuff.
I've just been bashing out some words, thinking about writing in the 3rd person, thinking about being a teenager. I need to write in the 3rd person for my writing to mature. I need another couple of novels under my belt before I can get this right.
Dark nonsense below.

geeing up for NANO 2013

She thought it was love. It certainly felt like love; she couldn't stop thinking about him. She would sit in her room, listening to the radio and think about him touching her shin.

He had never touched her skin.

He brushed past her in a corridor once and if she remembered that moment she could feel exactly the patch of her body that had come into contact with hers.

She had borrowed a piece of paper from him once in Biology class. She had covered it scrawling notes as if it was a normal piece of paper but later she had folded it away and kept it in a locked box at home. From time to time she took it out and held it against her cheek and think about what it would be like if he did touch her.

She had it clear now in her mind, what it would be like, the moment that he snapped, the moment he couldn't take any more. For surely what was burning in her was burning just as fiercely in his chest. He would push her up against the wall and kiss her passionately. He would take her face in his hands and grip her with a fierce energy of all the night he had lain in his bed and imagined what it would be like to kiss her. They would be caught up in the kisses of relief. Thank goodness he was brave. He was right to be brave. Yes, she felt the same way and now the world would be changed forever.

He had made a joke once. He had said it would be funny the two of them together. All of their friend had paired up. They were the only single ones left. He had laughed and then held her gaze a little two long.

She thought of that gaze, that millisecond of something passing, and her skin shivered around her. He mouth became wet and a little open. Her eyes glazed and she felt as if she would lie on the cold kitchen floor forever. She would become a small puddle of teenage girl. Her body groaned and burned in the most inappropriate places. The stools in the science lab just pushed against her vulva in the wrong way. How could she think of two atoms sharing electrons when her skin screamed that he was over there, over there, he's over there.

He was a magnet and her iron filled body could feel the tug of him.

I'm going crazy she thought. She knew it was just chemicals whizzing about in her blood stream; just hormones. It felt out of control, the way it crackled across her fingers, the way it dilated her pupils. Almost sacred, a state of bliss, a holy state of rapture.

She wasn't even sure it was him that made her feel so strange. He wasn't much to look at. He carried his scrawny frame in an oversize army coat. He smelt of boy-sweat. His loping stride was just short of comical, only just. His face was an odd shape. Too long, too equine, the wrong size for his mouth.

But he was clever and quick. He was the whiz-kid of their maths class. He caught their teacher out in a complex calculus equation. When his hand shot up to answer a question her heart beat so fast she was sure everyone else could hear it. Thank goodness she wasn't the kind of girl who blushed, she would spend her life in the toilets splashing her red cheeks.

I need to stop thinking about him she told herself, but she couldn't. Unwanted imaged flashed before her. It was almost inconsequential that he thought about her but she wanted so badly to know if he did. He had changed her so completely that it did not matter now whether he competed the act or not. The image of his hands around her face, his wet mouth pushing her greedily, was real, as if it had happened. It didn't need to happen now, she could bring that image to light, so clear, so perfect.

He says nothing as there is nothing to say. Their eyes are closed, they taste each other. If she tries to take it any further the image and the feelings fade. She knows she could never have sex, even though it is a sexual feeling that is coursing through her. She can't even get to a point where his hands touch her anywhere else, it's just this rushed kiss. Maybe his hands are on her neck.

And then, in the dark, in her room, with her fingers in her knickers, she thinks a thought so sharp and true it cuts across the fuzzy veil.

His fingers on her neck. Yes she can think of that and it excites her more.

His fingers crushing her neck. He can make her feel so many things just by being alive because he might be the one to take her, to end her.

The feelings of love, of desire flare into an unbearable intensity. She stops playing with herself to give her body over to this new feeling. A total surrender, not just of body, of soul but of life.

And she would love the one who took her this way. She would love him. It would be her gift to him.

To feel her very soul flow from her, to gasp in his hands, to see his eyes as the last thing on this earth.

She wanted him to kill her.

She thought it was love.....

Wait....what!!!!

Holy Mayoly! It's been SNOWING!!!!!!
GAH!
The weather is truly fucked up and I fear we will never see a harvest from our allotment EVER AGAIN!!!!
The cherry tree certainly won't be fruiting this year again as it is dropping it's petals and there sure hasn't been any insects around to do any pollinating.

Last summer I dyed alpaca and hung it to dry in the sun. Do you think we will ever have sun again?

This blog is not...

This blog is not a crochet blog, or a spinning blog. It is an Erika blog with all the light and the dark that comes with bi-polar nonsense. Sometimes I am excited, a child-like glee in the colours and textures in my life. Other times I lie in darked rooms with my body curled in a painful despair. I am sorry if sometimes this stuff slips out onto the screen through the gentle key taps, so fluid under my hands, sometimes the thoughts don't get checked, they just come through me to the page.
I am lurching from moment to moment. A group of women met and had a meal together on International women's day. I was so excited I had to sit on my hands or shred cocktail sticks to stop myself from going over-to-top crazy. Another day I had a stark realization that I was hopeless at my so-called job and had let people down by my...I want to say laziness but it was simply the days had passed, they had all been full of things work related but some how all the work never got done and now it is too late. So I hit a huge low because I HATE being useless and failing, this is why I used to never want to try to achieve anything.

Ok, so here's a yarn pic. It's pink single ply merino sock yarn. I like it. It's very even and not in any way slubby - perfect for socks.
Yarn is simple. It asks for nothing, it doesn't cry, it doesn't write cryptic messages on face book aimed at me, it doesn't need me need me need me. If you finds my lifeless body, drained of blood from all the little cuts the world has been making on my skin, bury me in the yarn.

How slowly goes the night

I feel it clawing at me. I feel it creeping from the dark places and sizing up my defenses. It calls me from my safety. I feel it's dark hand upon my fleash as it pushes me onto the ground.
The night is long and the dawn seems far away. 
I live with it, cheek to jowl, everyday. it whispers to me with every thought. I can never escape.
It tells me that there is a sweet release just under my skin. It tells me that flashing lights and cold steel can cure this melancholy.  It is a stone faced angel gliding it's finger down my arm, opening veins, chilling my sences.
And all of you are just brittle anchors. Just fading images of a real life lived with brazen smiles and set circumstance. All of this is barely enough to quell the clawing want, even on a sunny day with children laughing and prospects glowing just out of reach. All of this is daylight stuff, created by the light, born into itself every morning. The sunset brings me back, back to the hollowness I carry inside me.
I am in pain and the cure is worse than the malady.
I'll curl myself up now like a cat and think comforting thoughts of blood letting, of knives and death.
The morning will come and I shall be whole still.
But it claws at me...my God....how it claws.

• send gloves to J
  Make large hot water bottle cover for L
• send fairy to L
• make green and red hat for G
• make baby dress for CB's baby
• Make something for CV's baby (sex unknown)
• Make something for MB's baby (boy)
• finish no 2 owl hot water bottle
• finish pink bag
• make 3 more owls?
• make 2 more bags?
• Spin all the carded batts and lots more
• Keep on top of washing yarn
  • make a felted sign
  • spin orange batts
  • reach 50 yarns to sell 
  • spin yarn for C