dimanche 30 novembre 2014

unbelievable - Impensable

It's the final day of Nablopomo and I don't know what to say in this post. I can't do an appraisal of what I wrote, as I already did that mid-challenge.

Instead, I will talk about my crocheting. I'm crocheting something that's secret because I want to enter it in a contest on a french forum, so no pics, no French translation.  Last year, I made up a pattern from the pic of a beautiful hippie girl in a 1967 pic, you can trace it from my Rav profile. It's a lace hat. I'm keeping the border but will make the rest more solid, I found a two-colours stitch that's reminiscent of the netting that was in the original.
That's it, that's my crochet for now.

I hope Nablopomo was the kickstarter for my blog, and that I won't let it go stale now that I'm accustomed to write regularly. I want to thanks the Ravelry group too. Thanks to it I discovered amazing blogs.

samedi 29 novembre 2014

One year later - un an après.

Look at me, here is me being an hypocrite. I rant about people who take phone camera videos in concerts, then I use them...

Regardez-moi cette petite hypocrite qui peste contre les preneurs de vidéos dans les concerts et qui fait son marché sur Youtube...

(it wasn't the day I saw him - ce n'était pas le jour où je l'ai vu)

(french version - version française)

(I couldn't not include this one - un must)

(this one as well - celle-ci aussi)

vendredi 28 novembre 2014

year 1000 - An mille

Another postcard post from my family's region (my maternal family is from Auvergne, more precisely Cantal; my paternal family is parisian or suburban). A few years ago, they found a buron, a shepherd's shelter, then a 1000-years old village on the territory of the Rissergues village in the mountain up on our commune of Malbo. It is amazing. Here are a few pics. Here you can see a reconstitution of one of the five buildings they found. Other pics, with some artifacts, can be found here.

Un autre billet carte-postale de la région de ma famille (ma famille maternelle est d'Auvergne, du Cantal plus précisément; ma famille paternelle est parisienne ou banlieusarde); Il y a quelques années, il a été trouvé un buron, un abri de berger, puis tout un village vieux de 1000 ans, sur le territoire de Rissergues, dans la montagne sur notre commune de Malbo. Vous pouvez voir quelques photos ici. Et ici, une reconstitution d'un bâtiment. D'autres photos présentant notamment des artefacts peuvent être vues ici.

jeudi 27 novembre 2014


(no source, it was on Pinterest, with URL changed to a commercial site, I hate when they do this)

I know this blog is very me-centered, but that's my way of aprehending my place in the world, as in real life I have exactly four interlocutors, total : my parents, my singing teacher and my psychiatrist. Maybe I could tell my psychiatrist, but I generally have something more important to say than pure vanity. But vanity can be important, as for an example when fat activists reclaim their right to be the way they are through selfies, fashion posts, vidcasts...by the way, I wish I had the stamina to be a fat activist, but most of the times I'm lost in my own head, let alone my body, so I would be a very bad recruit.

The quote above resonated with me in two ways : 1- I wish my wings are coming, now that I'm more stable. 2- I fear my wings days are passé, that I'm an old mite that is damaging its wings against a bright, hot lightbulb.

Strictly speaking about vanity, I was an ugly child and highschooler, and not rich, so I was wearing a lot of hand-me-downs and discount brands (the discount brands of the 90's, when textiles were still relatively expensive and discounter carried very badly cut fare); I was the scapegoat in school since preschool where a group of children used to isolate me and beat me; middle school was relatively OK, high-school saw the return of physical threats with the added bonus of psychologic harrassment). University was a huge liberation, as I was with people who didn't know I used to be bullied, so they didn't bully me. I still wasn't social enough to form real friendships, but I had good buddies, better than the mere acquaintances I had in school. Then I slowly grow anxious, anxious everywhere, all the time. I started being affraid of my fellow students and my professors, I started hearing things I knew weren't true, I started roaming endlessly the city of Paris or going back home in my suburb to sleep instead of going to my classes. I was a very good student. Two years laters, I was unable to follow my classes anymore. Then the big decompensation happened during my exams for my chemistry maîtrise (third year of university). I stopped university altogether. I wouldn't have passed anyway. This is when I started seen a psych.
After a few months, things got better. As I still had hope I could go back to school, and was eyeing a school for noses or other workers of the perfume industry, I accepted a job as a sales clerk in a brand new shop in the mall that had just opened near me, as this shop was all about scents and flavours : jams, spices, condiments, candy, candles, lampes Berger, hookahs, incense, oil burners, essential oils, toiletries...so I felt I could learn a lot and train my nose in passing.
I learnt a lot indeed, in particular about incense, which are far more than the sticks dipped in artificial perfumes we see in bazaars. I learnt about rare woods, resins, japanese incense, the simplest mass blends. Customers needed me to navigate this aisle. I felt worthy and helpful. And sartorially, my then manager let me do whatever I wanted, included romantic goth look and red-rose hair, as she knew I was part of the folklore of the shop and people were telling her they were looking inside the shop and only came in if they saw my red hair.
On the mental health front, I was stable and able to work. Therapy was enough to keep me stable. Life was good.

(what if if that was the time where I got my wings?)

Then things started to go pear-shaped again. More anxiety, more halucinations. New managers who fired everybody except me, so no work recognition, all of these feeding each other in an enormous, atrocious vicious circle. I was not able to do without medication anymore. I was not allowed anymore to have unnatural hair. Which is a biggest problem that one could thought, as I have trouble recognizing myself in the mirror or in pics without it. I am more me with pink or purple hair, as ridiculous as it sounds, it's true.
Then there was the holiday season of 2007, the one I still have flashbacks about when I hear the commercial for Kinder Advent Calendars, just because Let It Snow was part of the music that was played at the shop this season. I promised myself I could endure it till new year's eve. Three days later my psych made me a note for me not to work till I was again able to. It took me almost two years and an hospital stay. I have the chance to live under french work laws, where my employer couldn't fire me. So when in September 2009 I was a little better, I was able to go back to my job; but it wasn't the same. People had been fired again, the shop downsized a part of its physical location and stopped carrying rare incense in favour of the easiest to sell bazaar kind. I was doing my best but clearly, I didn't have my place anymore. And I was starting going worse again.
It worked till may of 2010, when they sent a letter to the work doctor with my odd behaviours detailed in it, some true, but most falsely exagerated. He declared me inapt for my job. That's the only legal way they had to get rid of me but, to be frank, I think I couldn't have lasted more than a few months at that stage.
So, second hospital stay, with the usual symptoms and now a bonus : depression. In a few months I put on 40kg. Here is a pic where I tried to retain a part of the old me by dying my hair :

(I am the one with dark cherry hair. What do you think? Burnt wings?)

A few years passed and now I am more stable again, even if anxiety is very high since the start of 2014; I still halucinate, and it's still deconcerting and unnerving when it happens, but it's almost, "routine" halucinations, if you will. I have been allowed to work in a safe environment, in a workshop for mental health patients, and I am on their waiting list.

Here is the pic I like best of me now :

(it's also one of the few pics where I'm smiling)

So I don't know. What if, instead of a butterfly, I was Dicrocoelium dendriticum, the lancet liver fluke, who has a life circle with 3 phases, each one parasiting a new animal : snail, ant, sheep?

mercredi 26 novembre 2014

a curious observation - une observation curieuse

In these days where any phone has a camera inside, I don't take much pics, apart from my projects. I think it comes from several causes. When I was little we were often broke, and film was expensive, so it was saved for the big events. And even then, I was an ugly little girl, so my pic was not as often taken than my conventionally pretty cousins. As a matter of fact, all the pics of myself when I was little have ended up shredded when I did my big decompensation twelve years ago. My parents still own some, though

But that's just one reason. I think I prefer living the instant instead of spoiling it, recording it to remember it later. Which is paradoxal, as I don't have much as a memory and I unconsciously block a lot of memories. But the last two times I had the courage to go to a concert I was annoyed a lot by people recording on their cells, obscuring the view with their raised arms and screens full of lights. Why don't they savour the moment instead? And all that for, most of the times, a pretty crappy recording of the event.

So, this is why this blog may be failing on that aspect : not enough personal pics, too much external links for illustration. But keep in mind that even if I did take pics, my technique is too amateur to be enjoyable.

De nos jours où le moindre téléphone a un appareil photo, je me rends compte que je ne prends pas beaucoup de photos, à part mes projets. Je crois que ça vient de causes diverses; quand j'étais petite les sous ça ne courait pas à la maison et la pellicule coûtait cher, aussi les photos étaient pour les plus grands évènements. Dans ma famille, étant une petite fille laide, j'étais moins prise en photo que mes cousines plus conventionnellement jolies. D'ailleurs toutes les photos de moi petite en ma possession, je les ai déchirées et jetées lors de ma grande décompensation, il y a douze ans. Mes parents ont encore les leurs, cependant.

Mais ce n'est qu'une raison. Je crois que je préfère vivre l'instant au lieu de le gâcher en voulant le préserver pour plus tard. Ce qui est plutôt paradoxal, car j'ai une très mauvaise mémoire et je bloque beaucoup de souvenirs. Mais les deux dernières fois où j'ai eu le courage d'aller à un concert j'ai été plus qu'ennuyée par les gens qui enregistraient sur leur téléphone, obscurcissant la vue pour les autres avec leurs bras levés et leurs écran lumineux. Pourquoi ne pas savourer l'instant à la place? Et tout ça, pour, la plupart du temps, un enregistrement plus que minable qui ne montre rien.

Aussi, c'est un des endroits où ce blog pèche : pas assez de photos personnelles, trop de liens externes pour illustrer. Mais gardez à l'esprit que même si je prenais des photos, ma technique est trop amateur pour être satisfaisante.

mardi 25 novembre 2014

The Sarrans Dam - le barrage de Sarrans

Near my late grandmother's commune, there is a big electrical dam on the Truyère river,  that was built circa 1920, if I recall well. They empty it every 30 years. Last time I was a wee baby, this summer is the second time (and the first I remember) I saw it empty. If I'm lucky I might see it once again. It's amazing, there was no vegetation , appart from the biggest trees that stand, all blackened, like burnt skeletons, and the ghostly ruins. Now they are filling the dam again, the water has started to rise, you can see the process over here.

Près de la commune de feue ma grand-mère, il y a cet énorme barrage électrique sur la Truyère qui a été construit vers 1920 si je me souviens bien. Tous les trente ans,ils le purgent. La dernière fois j'étais bébé et je ne me souvenais pas, cet été c'était la deuxième fois et si je suis chanceuse je le verrai encore une fois. C'était extraordinaire, il n'y avais plus de végétation à part les squelettes noircis des plus gros arbres, et les ruines. C'était fantomatique. Depuis un mois ils remplissent à nouveau le barrage et les eaux montent, vous pouvez suivre le processus ici.

lundi 24 novembre 2014


Right now I'm a mess because I have several pieces of paperwork to do, and it's always a great source of anxiety because I'm not very good at filing my paperwork, so finding the forms they want is hard work, plus I tend to fill them wrong so it always starts a game of back and forth mail between me and the organism that wants the paperwork. It is to the point I'm seriously dreaming about giving up filing my paperworl entirely, even if it means I won't have my disability pension anymore. So when they say it's easy for mental health patients to go homeless, I'm starting to see how indeed easy it could be. I'm serious this time, I'm doing it, but I'm still lacking two forms and it makes me worried.

But I wanted to talk about something else. It's connected, however tiny the link is, as it makes me think that, even with strong limitations, one can achieve marvels. In June 2014 I went to a museum with people from my mental health dispensary. It was la Fabuloserie, the very first "art brut" museum that ever opened in France. In its garden there is this marvellous merry-go-round, nowadays we'd say it's entirely upcycled. It was made by a peasant called Petit Pierre, who was born deaf, mute and with deformities. His parents tried to make him go to school but other pupils were so bad with him he barely went one year, as, as disabeled he was and as hard it made communicating, his mind was perfectly normal so he could resent other children's cruelty. I think he learnt to write and read with his sister, but that may be me elaborating on the story. He started making his merry-go-round with tins and wood and other things he found, and soon he could let people visit it on sundays, so it was his way to be accepted by the people who looked down on him where he lived.

I don't have pics as I was too mesmerized by the merry-go-round to fetch my phone. There are even little tricks, like a man drinking in a glass with the sign : look at the man drinking his wine, and when you stop to look at it, you're splashed with water! There are also fireworkers that splash you from a big ladder, and a huge Eifel tower. I loved it.
I will try to find youtube videos but as I don't have sound on my PC I have no idea what they say :

So maybe, if Petit Pierre achieved his dream, I may be able to complete that bloody paperwork. At least I hope.

And if you ever go to Paris and can spare a day to go to Dicy, 130km from there, please do yourself a favour and go to la Fabuloserie. It's not conventionally pretty art, a lot of it feels oppressive as it reflects the circonstances of the persons who made it, but not all the pieces are grim. There are even textile pieces, and wooden machines and toys. And the village is charming, there is a little river with little stone houses and quaint gardens, it's really pretty if you like to draw or for a picnic.

dimanche 23 novembre 2014

Spot the error - Cherchez l'erreur

It's glaring at me. No wonder I had 8 stitches that went nowhere at the end of my chain. That's what you get when you listen to trash tv while working.

Elle me saute aux yeux. Pas étonnant qu'il me reste 8 mailles à la fin de la chaînette; ça m'apprendra à écouter D8 en crochetant.

(It's there! THERE! Là! LA!)

But do I care enough to start over? That is the question...
(last minute news, 6 hours later : I caved in and frogged and added a row of filet between the two sides of the edging)

Mais est-ce que ça m'importune au point de recommencer? Là est la question...
(nouvelles de dernière minute , 6 heures plus tard : j'ai flanché, ai tout défait et rajouté un rang de filet entre les deux côtés de la bordure)

Stitch is border #60 in the Priscilla Irish Crochet Book that can be downloaded on the Antique Pattern  Library. (pdf direct link here). I won't translate it as I will do in the french paragraph (let's just say it's a starting chain of multiples of 16 stitches, as it wasn't mentioned in the book), as it is perfectly understandable English, but here is the chart of the first repeat :

Il s'agit de la bordure n°60 dans le Priscilla Irish Crochet Book qui peut être chargé sur l'Antique Pattern Library. (lien direct vers le pdf ici); je me suis amusée à dessiner la première répétition du motif.

Sur une chaînette d'un multiple de 16 mailles :
  • 8 ms, 6ml, tourner le travail, fermer avec une ms sur la première ms faite de la série de 8.Tourner
  • 4ms, 1 picot, 6ms sur l'arceau de 6ml
  • repartir sur la chaînette de départ, 8ms, 6ml, tourner le travail, fermer 8ms plus loin avec une ms. Tourner
  • 4ms sur l'arceau de 6ml,7 ml, tourner. Fermer avec une ms à 2 mailles du picot.Tourner
  • 4ms, 1 picot,4ms, 1 picot, 4ms dans l'arceau de 7ml
  • repartir sur l'arceau de 6ml : 2ms, 1 picot, 4ms.
  • recommencer au début.

samedi 22 novembre 2014

The Uncommon Reader - la Reine des Lectrices

What would happen if Elizabeth II discovered a traveling library in front of Buckingham palace and started to feel a devastating love for reading as a consequence of this discovery? This is the premices of this book. I couldn't make it justice, as right now I'm still sick, so I think a lot of it passed above my poor achy mind, but I loved the subtle english humor. Well, when I say subtle, it's because my kind of English humour generally is Terry Pratchett or Tom Sharpe...There is possibly more reflection on the effects of reading on the reader - in a standard reader, it isolates; in the Queen, that uncommon reader, it makes her relate more to her people. But again, I don't have the ability to analyze this right now. I'll for sure reread it in a while, if it doesn't hide in the jungle that is my Kindle app.
The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett.

Qu'arriverait-il si Elizabeth II découvrait par hasard un bibliobus au pied du palais de Buckingham et se piquait soudainement de lecture avec une passion dévorante? C'est ce qui se passe dans ce livre. Je ne pourrais pas lui rendre justice maintenant, étant toujours malade, car je pense que beaucoup de choses sont passées au dessus de ma pauvre tête endolorie, mais j'ai adoré le subtil humour anglais...Enfin quand je dis subtil, c'est parce que mon genre d'humour habituel c'est Terry Pratchett ou Tom Sharpe...il y a certainement pas mal de réflexion sur les effets de la lecture sur le lecteur - chez le lecteur lambda, c'est l'isolation; mais chez la Reine, cette uncommon lectrice, cette lectrice hors du commun des mortels, cela la fait se rapprocher des contingences de son peuple. Mais là encore, en ce moment je n'ai pas toutes mes facultés pour analyser en finesse. Je vais certainement le relire un peu plus tard s'il ne se perd pas dans la jungle de mon appli Kindle.
La Reine des Lectrices d'Alan Bennett.

vendredi 21 novembre 2014

The eternal plight of the selfish Knitter - La rançon de la tricoteuse égoïste

I want a dress
I want a poncho that looks like a capelet in front and a triangular shawl in the back
I want a lace choker
I want a lavalière
I want a flapper cloche
I want a simpler Katwise coat
I want a lacy hoodie with a big monacal hood
I want a purse.
Too many ideas at the same time, too little concentration and time, and materials, too many techniques to learn, oh my.... that's the eternal plight of the selfish knitter.

Je veux une robe
Je veux un poncho qui ressemble à un chauffe-coeur devant et un châle triangulaire derrière
Je veux un ras du cou en dentelle
Je veux une lavalière
Je veux une cloche à la garçonne.
Je veux un manteau à la Katwise, en plus simple
Je veux une veste à capuche en dentelle avec un grand capuchon monacal
Je veux un sac à main
Trop d'idées toutes en même temps, trop peu de concentration ou de temps, ou de matériaux, trop de techniques à apprendre, oh bon sang....la rançon de la tricoteuse égoïste.

jeudi 20 novembre 2014

Let's talk about fluff, baby

Let's talk about fluff, baby
Let's talk about clothes and me
Let's talk about all the good things
And the bad things that may be
Let's talk about fluff 
Let's talk about fluff!

(showing my age there- oups, je dévoile mon âge là...)

Too sick to crochet (hard to crochet with hook in one hand and tissue in the other), so I made a Pinterest board about the style I'd want to cultivate : dark knitter :)

Trop mal en point pour crocheter (trop dur de crocheter un crochet dans une main et un mouchoir dans l'autre), aussi j'ai fait un tableau Pinterest sur un style que j'aimerais adopter : tricoteuse dark :)

mercredi 19 novembre 2014

Still with my purse idea - toujours cette idée de sac en tête.

I'm brusquely sick with a flu-ish virus but still entertaining that new purse idea; this time, crochet!

So I've seen this gorgeous pic on Flickr (her whole flickr is gorgeous eyecandy for fiber fanatics!)and then I thought I could assemble snowflakes like these on a plum lining cotton. Seems easy enough to do.

Another possibility is taking inspiration from the gorgeous Géranium bag from Sophie Digard; mine would be thicker, as she uses a multitude of very fine linen threads to get those gorgeous everchanging shades; but I have a pastel collection of skeins of Noble from Holstgarn. I initially bought them because I wanted to make a shrug inspired by this bag. So : bag, sweater, what should I choose?

J'ai subitement la crève mais toujours cette idée de nouveau sac en tête; cette fois-ci, au crochet!

Je viens de voir cette belle photo sur Flickr (le flickr entier de l'auteur est une invitation à manier le fil) et je me suis dit que je pourrais assembler des flocons comme ça sur une doublure de coton prune; ça paraît assez facile.

Une autre possibilité est de s'inspirer du superbe sac Géranium de Sophie Digard; le mien serait plus épais, vu que je n'ai pas à ma disposition la myriade de fils de lin très fins qu'elle assemble pour obtenir ses teintes changeantes; mais j'ai une petite collection pastel de Noble d'Holstgarn que j'avais acheté parce que je voulais un chauffe-épaules inspiré de ce sac; alors : chauffe-épaules, sac, que choisir?

 (no source. This pic is all over the Net; pas de source, on retrouve cette image un peu partout)

(the shrug could bear a ressemblance to that; I like it, as mad as it looks. Pic from a zhurnal mod magazine I found on the net, I need to buy the mag. Le chauffe épaules pourrait ou ne pourrait pas ressembler à ça, et c'est tellement dingue que j'adore; image de zhurnal mod trouvée sur le net, il va falloir que je me le procure celui-là)

mardi 18 novembre 2014

you know what I'd like? - Vous savez ce que je voudrais?

I'm craving a new purse. My huge eggplant Namaste Malibu is dying, the vegan leather is peeling. If I could, I'd buy a Poppins in raspberry because it's so cute and appears to be roomy, but the only website I can order Namaste from doesn't carry it. So instead I bought a purse frame, the biggest I could (I need big bags for my knitting and a bottle of water, and possibly a piece of fruit or two) : 25cm, I'm so sad I couldn't find a 30cm one with the little holes in the frame so that you can sew the top (I don't trust the textile glue-only ones).
Right now I have two ideas. One is simple and luxurious; I've got a few skeins of dark petrol alpaca, probably not enough for a sweater that's bigger than a roomy shrug. I thought I could do the bag in stockinette, and then embroider constellations with DMC gold and silver thread.
Other idea is more involved but less luxurious. I have white acrylic. My dream is little aran snowflakes. It might be doable if I made them in the round, so that there would be branches in all directions, and then I could sew them together. Possibly, there even might already exist a snowflake pattern in Nicky Epstein's excellent Knitting In Circles...
Whatever I choose, I'll need fabric to line it, though.

J'ai très envie d'un nouveau sac. Mon énorme Namaste Malibu couleur eggplant est en fin de vie, le faux cuir se dédouble. Si je pouvais, j'achèterais un Poppins de la même marque, dans la couleur raspberry, parce qu'il a l'air très mignon et très spacieux, mais le seul site où je peux acheter Namaste ne le fait pas. Alors à la place j'ai acheté une monture de sac, la plus grande que j'ai pu trouver (j'ai besoin d'un grand sac avec mon tricot, une bouteille d'eau et un fruit ou deux à trimballer): 25cm; je suis déçue de ne pas avoir trouvé 30cm avec la monture percée pour la coudre (je ne fais pas confiance à celles où on ne mets que de la colle textile).
Pour l'instant j'ai deux idées; la première est simple mais luxueuse : j'ai quelques pelotes d'alpaga pétrole foncé, pas assez pour un gilet plus grand qu'un shrug un peu spacieux. Je pensais le tricoter en jersey, et broder des constellations dessus au fil DMC doré et argenté.
 L'autre idée est plus élaborée mais moins luxueuse : j'ai de l'acrylique blanche et suis obsédée par les flocons en torsades. ça devrait être possible à faire si je les fais en circulaire, de façon à ce que les branches partent dans toutes les directions, et après je pourrais coudre les motifs ensemble. Et qui sait, il y a peut-être un motif déjà tout fait dans l'excellent Knitting In Circles de Nicky Epstein...
Quoi que je choisisse, je vais devoir trouver du tissu pour le doubler.

lundi 17 novembre 2014

Mid-term - Mi-temps

So, I've completed half of my Nablopomo challenge. I think I can congratulate myself on this, as I didn't know if I could last that long. Looking at my entries, there is as much knitting as I thought there would be, but far less fluff. Also, more serious posts than I would originally have thought two weeks ago. When I started a new blog, I wanted to avoid the personal stuff. Turns out I can't. The Net is really my only outlet, apart from my appointments with the psych. Sometimes I post only in English, not in French, if I don't want a few persons I know to read these entries, should they stumble upon my blog (so now that I have confessed it, I can't translate that post too...). Sometimes it's only in french, because I was too overwhelmed so my native language is the only one I can be coherent in. Sometimes it's in both...

But there is one thing I know for sure : those people who say Internet is the death of sociability as we know it, do they think about the socially-challenged, like me? Internet was a revolution for me. It allowed me to be far more social than I have ever been. It's not a traditional, face to face way to be social, that's for sure. But that's still social time. I'd be lost without Ravelry, as it is my go-to site when I feel social, or when I want to talk about a particular thing, as I know there is a group for everything. I'm less at-home on Facebook, as I only joined last year and I prefer the user-friendliness of Ravelry. Without that site, I would only have contact with my parents, my psych and my singing teacher.
I was especially thinking about this today because a FB friend I've chatted with for a year has blocked me. We shared very personal things but I think he resented the fact we only chatted via FB or SMS and that we never met or talked via phone (no innuendo there, he's gay and married). I still don't know what I feel about this. I'm sad because I appreciate him, but I'm still relieved because of the expectation of having to meet him one day, or phone him, to go outside of my comfort zone and maybe not meet his rather high standards...

And you, are you a socially apt person whose Internet use has enhanced your life, or another socially inapt peon like me? If you read this, I know there are chances you're not in the "back in the good ole day" partisans.

dimanche 16 novembre 2014

The state of things so far

I think I will ask for an internship (it's required before permanently joining)  in the ESAT workshop for mental health patients and, on the 26th, when I see my psychiatrist, I will ask him to talk with my parents to convince them. He already proposed to do this previously but I declined because it was making me anxious. You see, when it's something that is not as accepted as depression, french psychs are reluctant to give a definite diagnosis. I've seen a total of four psychs in different settings, and all of them told me they treat symptoms, not labels (hence the tag for those entries); I've lurked on french patients forums on the net, and it always happens to people with bipolarity or schizophrenia or another type of psychosis, and they often have to wait for years before someone tells them. I know that on my disability paperwork (where they have to state the reason why one asks for disability) there is "chronic hallucinatory psychosis, depression and generalized anxiety" but it was never discussed (no, I lie; a psych once conceded I was "more psychotic than nevrotic". Well, a lot of good that did me! I tried to read about it but my reading comprehension failed me; but it may prove the psychs' point that they wouldn't give me a diagnosis so that I don't run and check what it means on wikipedia, with the risk I'd unconsciously behave like the description was). I did try a lot, though. I did a professional orientation assessment last year, where it was decided I should apply for the ESAT, and , as it is not a government organisation but a non profit private organisation that did this assessment, the psych told me he just put "personality disorder" on the paperwork in order to protect me so as not to disclose my diagnosis to untrustful persons but still put something to fill the questionnaire, so now I'm very confused. All I know is that I constantly am anxious, I sleep all the time and have a hard time feeling good feelings or feeling simply alive (we have two main ways to sense how I feel in my appointments with the psych : for strange perceptions, do I feel like it was from the outside or the inside of my mind [i.e. is it an halucination or an obsession], and for the general mood, do I feel alive or not), in a word I am apathetic when it comes to other feelings than anxiety and halucinate from time to time and experiences depersonalisation.( If you look at the drawings over there, the depersonalisation resonates a lot with me because it happens a lot, I knew the name of the symptom, but I prefer to call it being wayward from reality or from my mind, as I mostly feel a shift from reality. I've never seen a drawing expressing it so well!)
So I was reluctant that the psych talked to my mother, because I don't know where professionnal secret ends and am affraid my parents will know more than myself on my health and, even if they learn little about it, that it will break their heart. They have this fantasy it's my last job that burnt me out, but they conveniantly forget I had to drop out of university far before that because of my mental health...
But I need to do something. I'm tired of staying at home everyday and feeling like a leech, but I know I wouldn't be able to hold the jobs I see propositions for on the job office site. When I did my professional orientation assessment, it required a two-weeks internship, and I did mine in the ESAT in my town, the one where I'll go if all goes well. I was doing the washing and ironing of napkins, tableclothes and uniforms for the restaurant and gardeners of the ESAT, plus a few external clients. Everytime I had to load the industrial machine I was in stitches all the time it cycled because I was always affraid I'd forget to check a pocket and it could wreck the machine. It doesn't sound like much, but it was enough to make me freeze. And there were lots of other little occurrences like that. Plus I went to hide every time an external client came, and on my evaluation they said I was too solitary and didn't mingle with other workers, so I know it would be very difficult to handle standard workplace coworkers...even when I was a sales assistant and still able to hold my job, I had a very hard time relating to coworkers and interacting with them...

Well, was it what one calls a stream od consciousness post? lots of parentheses...I'm sorry, it must be hard to read. 

ETA : it's barely 9h30 and I'm already sleepy. So I am posting this and going back to bed.

samedi 15 novembre 2014

knitting litterature - Tricot-littérature

I love reading about knitting or crochet. But curiously, I don't like reading fiction about knitting. Generally it's about a knitting circle or a little quaint yarn shop and it's just an artificial device to artificially put together various characters that don't share a lot in common, i.e. it's a simple pretext, so the knitting theme is not well exploited, if it is used at all after having set the place, and I quicly give up reading it.

What I love are books that really are about knitters, not knitting as a quaint touch. That means I love those book where yarnies write about their love of knitting. Then identification with the author is total and immediate, which never happens with the pretend, half-assed knitters in fiction. Anytime I learn about such a book, it jumps in my kindle app, I can't help it...

A little list, because lists are rad :
  • The Yarn Harlot 's books. (I prefer calling her the Yarn Harlot even if what I appreciate are her books, not her blog, as I have to check how to spell Stephanie Pearl-McPhee whenever I want to write about her). I love all her books, even The Amazing Thing About The Way It Goes, even if it's not about knitting. I must confess I like less Free-Range Knitter, though. The postulate, in Casts Offs, where Knitting is a country with its rules and customs, is hilarious as well as spot on : knitting can be elevated to a lifestyle; otherwise I wouldn't be so incensed about knit fiction that gets it so wrong...
  • The Knitlit series : I like them like little snacks between meatier meals. Those are little essays that are grouped in subthemest hat are all having something to do with knitting. It's a pity the first one isn't available for Kindle (at least, not in France)
  • Wendy Knits. Like the Yarn Harlot, I love her book, as it is most relatable, but I don't read her blog.
  • Knit 2 together : I mention it because I like Tracey Ullman but it is more a pattern book with little autobiographical snippets. But what I don't like is the "knitting used to be for grannies, but both of us will drag it into the 21st century" tone that I get from the authors.
  • Confessions of a Knitting Heretic : more of a how to book about combination knitting, but lots of autobiographical parts. Plus, I identify a lot with Annie Modesitt since I knit combination and I love her design work. I wish I was as fearless as her about my knitting.
  • Knitting America is a bit different than the others book I listed, as it is an history book about knitting in North America. But it's so damn interesting, even to non americans.
  • Knitting yarns and spinning Tales : another essays book. I'm especially fond of Teva Durham's one, Another Knitter On the Block.
  • Knitting Yarns : Writers on Knitting : this one I haven't read yet, I think it got lost in the myriad books I have in my Kindle app. Another collection of essays that looks promising.
  • Sweater Quest : My Year of Knitting Dangerously : I loved this one! The author wants to knit a famous fair-isle sweater in a year and documents all the obsessive process, from learning to knit fair-isle with yarns in both hands to locating the book (it wasn't reedited then) and yarn, to the inevitable question : due to the accommodations she had to do, is her sweater a real one or something entirely else?
  • To knit or not to knit : So funny and erudite, both at the same time. It is written as a dear Abby column for knitters, is chockfull of famous quotes from historical figures and their knitterly equivalent, and lots of beautiful illustrations. A must-read.
  • The Yarn Whisperer : most of the other books in this list are knitting books with bits of autobiography. This one is Clara Parkes' autobiography, using knitting and yarn as a theme or as paraboles. I can't really say more because I want to do this amazing book justice and I know I can't, even in my native french.
  • Hooked For Life : Confessions Of A Crochet Zealot : last but not least, the only yarnie love book that is about crochet! It is very special in my heart.
  • oh, just a last one : if Brenda Dayne happened to publish the essays that were aired in her late podcast, Cast-On, I'd buy it immediately. I especially remember an essay in the "secret life of stitches" series (I think cast on episode 47 or 48), about a blue dream sweater coat that didn't fit with the other elegant  jackets and coats at the office, as did her knitter in the corporate world; that really resonated with me. One day I'll have my dream coat and I hope it won't have to face the corporate world.
Wow, this is quite the list. But one thing saddens me : if it's all English-speaking books, it's not because I wouldn't put the occasional book in french. It's just that this knitting lit genre is unknown over here. You see, knitting is still seen as largely unhype, so I can't see a publishing company taking this risk. It's a pity. I'm sure designer/podcaster Annette Petavy would do marvels in this genre.

And now I face the gargantuesque task of translating this wall of text...

J'adore lire sur le tricot et le crochet. Mais je n'aime curieusement pas les fictions ayant le tricot ou le crochet pour thème. Généralement, elles sont à propos d'un club de tricot ou d'un petit magasin de laine pittoresque, et cela sert juste à artificiellement confronter des personnages n'ayant rien en commun. C'est donc un prétexte, très souvent mal exploité (et encore, s'il est exploité) passées les scènes d'exposition du lieu de l'action. Aussi j'abandonne très rapidement la lecture.

Ce que j'aime, ce sont les livres qui sont à propos des tricoteuses, pas du tricot comme touche désuète ou excentrique apportée à un livre. En fait, j'aime ces livres où les accros du fil crient leur amour pour le tricot. L'identification avec l'auteur est alors totale et immédiate, ce qui n'arrive jamais avec les personnages ratés des fictions de tricot. Dès que j'apprends la publication d'un tel livre, il saute dans mon appli Kindle. C'est plus fort que moi...

Une petite liste, car les listes c'est le bien :
  • Les livres de la Yarn Harlot (que j'appelle toujours Yarn Harlot même si j'aime ses livres, pas son blog, simplement parce que c'est plus facile à écrire que Stephanie Pearl-McPhee). Je les aime tous, même the Amazing Thing About The Way It Goes qui n'est pas sur le tricot. Je dois dire que j'aime moins Free-Range Knitter. Par contre, le postulat dans Casts Offs que le Tricot est une nation avec ses us et coutumes est non seulement hilarant mais au fond très juste : si le tricot ne pouvait se concevoir comme un style de vie, je ne serais pas aussi énervée par les fictions qui ont tout faux...
  • La série des Knitlit : des collections de petits essais que je vois comme des bonbons à picorer entre deux repas plus substanciels. Je regrette que le premier ne soit pas disponible pour Kindle.
  • Wendy Knits : comme la Yarn Harlot, j'adore ce livre mais ne lis pas son blog. Je m'identifie à mort.
  • Knit 2 together : je le mentionnne surtout parce que j'aime Tracey Ullman. C'est plus un livres de modèles avec des petites scénettes autobiographiques. Et puis le livre a un certain ton de "le tricot c'était ringue,  à nous deux nous le faisons rentrer dans le vingt-et-unième siècle" qui me déplaît beaucoup.
  • Confessions Of A Knitting Heretic : un livre sur le tricot méthode combination, avec de l'autobiographie. Je m'identifie à mort, étant donné que je tricote avec cette méthode et que j'adore le travail de création d'Annie Modesitt. J'aimerais être aussi téméraire en tricot.
  • Knitting America est un peu différent, car il s'agit d'un livre d'histoire du tricot en Amérique du Nord. Passionnant même quand on n'a aucune attache avec les USA.
  • Knitting Yarns And Spinning Tales : encore un livre d'essai. J'aime particulièrement celui de Teva Durham, Another Knitter On The Block.
  • Knitting Yarns : Writers On Knitting : un autre livre d'essais qui s'est perdu dans la jungle de mon Kindle. Il a l'air prometteur.
  • Sweater Quest : My Year Of Knitting Dangerously : J'adore ce livre! L'auteur veut tricoter un fair-isle célèbre et difficile en un an et documente son obsession, depuis la chasse au livre (qui n'était plus édité à l'époque) et aux laines jusqu'à apprendre à tricoter le fair-isle avec une couleur dans chaque main. Et puis, cette obsédante question : avec les inévitales arrangements qu'elle a dû faire, est-elle en train de tricoter un authentique modèle ou quelque chose d'entièrement différent?
  • To Knit Or Not To Knit : très drôle et érudit à la fois. Ecrit comme un courrier du coeur pour tricoteuses, avec citations de personnages historiques et leur interprétation tricotesque, accompagné de belles illustrations. A lire absolument.
  • The Yarn Whisperer : tous les autres livres de cette liste sont des livres de tricot à contenu autobiographique. Celui-ci est une autobiographie où le tricot sert de parabole. Je me tais car même en français je ne saurais pas rendre justice à ce merveilleux livre.
  • Hooked For Life : Confessions Of A Crochet Zealot : le dernier mais non le moindre dans mon coeur, car c'est le seul à parler de crochet!
  • Oh, et puis une dernière un peu particulière : Si Brenda Dayne se décidait à publier la collection d'essais qui ont été lus dans son défunt podcast Cast-On, je l'achèterais immédiatement. Un essai en particulier résonne en moi, un de la série "the secret life of stitches" (peut-être dans l'épisode 47 ou 48) à propos d'un manteau tricoté de rêve se sentant mis à part par les autres vestes et manteaux plus élégants du bureau, comme sa tricoteuse, peu faite pour un emploi dans une multinationale. J'espère un jour avoir mon manteau de rêve tricoté, et qu'il ne connaîtra pas les multinationales.
Voilà, c'est quand même une sacrée liste. Une chose me chagrine, l'inexistence de ce type de littérature en France. Le tricot y est encore vu comme trop ringard, aucune maison d'édition ne s'y risquerait. C'est dommage, je suis sûre qu'Annette Petavy ferait des merveilles dans ce genre.

vendredi 14 novembre 2014

Project dreams.

Some projects that inspire me or that I would like to do, had I the funds or the ability, but probably never will.
  • A dress inspired by this one on Etsy.
  • a top, dress or skirt inspired by this dress. I have the mapple leaf pattern in a Zhurnal Mod magazine.
  • a crocheted lace bloomer and cami set to lounge at home.
  • a jacket (started a lot of times but always frogged) with appliqués or embroidery inspired by this marriage contract between Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon :

Quelques projets qui m'inspirent et que je voudrais faire si monnaie et talent il y avait, mais que je ne ferai sûrement jamais.
  • une robe aran inspirée de celle-ci sur Etsy.
  • une robe, un haut ou une jupe comme ça; j'ai le patron de la feuille d'érable sur un Zhurnal Mod.
  • un ensemble bloomers-camisole en dentelle au crochet pour traîner à la maison
  • une veste (maintes fois commencée et défaite) appliquée ou brodée de coquelicots comme le contrat d'Henri VIII et Catherine d'Aragon.

(no known source)

jeudi 13 novembre 2014

Cheapskate - Harpagonne

So I'm feeling like adding a tag for cheapskate projects : the ones where I use 0.60€ a ball yarn, buttons from a mixed bag, or old clothes. 

J'ajouterais bien un tag à ce blog : cheapskate ou Harpagonne, pour les projets où j'utilise de la laine à 0.60€ la pelote, des boutons achetés en lot ou des vieilles fringues.

The cheapskate title is not innocent; it was the title of a goth ezine I adored, which dealt with getting a decadent lifestyle on a shoestring budget. I tried to find captures on the Internet Archive, as there used to be some, but apparently they were purged or something.

It got me nostalgic, and I read some sites I used to live by : the alt.gothic.fashion faq, Antimony and Lace, Morgeve, and some german ones that seem to still be updated : marquise.de, Natron und Soda....It may be that I didn't evolve at the same rate that the internet did and I don't know anymore where to find alternative DIY tutorials, but it seems to me the early 2000s were more creative when it came to subcultures. Maybe appart from the steampunk community, but a lot of it is of the unimaginative "put a cog on it and call it steampunk" genre. But it may be because DIY got mainstream.

Le tag anglais cheapskate (radin) n'est pas anodin. Il s'agissait d'un ezine que j'adorais, dont le sujet était comment avoir un style de vie romantique et décadent sur un tout petit budget. J'ai cherché des captures sur Internet Archive, car avant il y en avait, mais elles semblent avoir été purgées.

Cela m'a rendue nostalgique, alors j'ai relu des sites par lesquels je jurais : la faq du newsgroup alt.gothic.fashion, Antimony and Lace, Morgeve, et deux sites allemands qui semblent être encore maintenus : marquise.de et Natron und Soda...Il se peut que je n'aie pas évolué au même rythme que l'internet et que je ne sache plus où chercher les tutos DIY alternatifs, mais il me semble que dans les toutes premières années 2000 les sous-cultures faisaient plus preuve de créativité. Maintenant, à part le steampunk... (et encore, une bonne partie du steampunk que l'on peut trouver me fait penser à une chanson parodique : put cogs on it and call it steampunk, mets des écrous dessus et appelles-ça steampunk...). Mais c'est peut-être parce que le DIY est devenu mainstream.

 Well, all this is running through my head because I stopped dressing darkly circa 2008 when I started (relatively) putting on weight (and yet, it was nothing compared to the 40kg I put on in a few months in 2010. I should have enjoyed my hourglass figure more while I still had it) and I very much would like to regain a little of my past dark romanticism, adapted to my age of course. If I finally succeed to work in a worshop for mental health patients, I would have all freedom to dress as I please, in the limits of security rules, of course.

 Tout ça tourne dans ma tête car j'ai arrêté de m'habiller dark vers 2008 à mes premières prises de poids (toutes relatives comparées aux 40kg pris en quelques mois en 2010, quand j'y pense j'aurais dû profiter plus longtemps de ma silhouette en sablier tant que je l'avais) et je voudrais tellement récupérer un peu de ce romantisme sombre, adapté à mon âge actuel, bien sûr. Si je réussis finalement à être intégrée dans un atelier pour travailleurs handicapés, je pourrais m'habiller comme je veux tant que ça rentre dans les normes de sécurité.

There is one thing I'm not sure about, though : at what kind of price is a project a cheapie one? Are the ones I do with Drops or Cheval Blanc yarns, for instance, in that category? Should I consider the total amount instead?

Une chose me tracasse cependant : à partir de quand un projet est-il low-cost? Est-ce que quand je prends du Drops ou du Cheval Blanc, par exemple, ça rentre encore dans les clous? Ou alors, dois-je seulement prendre en compte le montant total?

Oh, and for you non french readers : the french tag, Harpagonne, is a fantasy feminine form from Harpagon, the hero of a screenplay witten by Molière, L'Avare. Our own Ebenezer Scrooge, if you will...

Là j'expliquais juste le pourquoi du comment d'Harpagonne.

mercredi 12 novembre 2014


A few weeks ago I proposed an idea for a KAL to a Ravelry group : it was about knitting or crocheting your own personal Everest. THE thing that would take your most dedication. I don't know if there will be that KAL, but I can tell you what mine would be : figurative colourwork, cables or lace.

For colourwork, I'm thinking about those double knitting marvels like the Central Park Coat.

For cables, I'm thinking about the Enchanted Forest cardi by Donna Karan (look at the back!) or the Alexander McQueen-inspired skull sweater.

For lace, one big name comes to my mind : Sharon Winsauer! From dragonflies to dragons, or ballerinas or little birds, she's the queen of figurative lace.

But what I'd really really want (zig-a-zig-aaaaah[just joking. I've got the Spice Girls as earworms for a few days now]) is to make my own. Surely there is more to do? But I must confess I'm too tired and sleepy to even contemplate such a piece of work; it would be monumental even if I was feeling my best.

And you, what would be your personnal knitting Everest?

Il y a quelques semaines j'ai proposé une idée de KAL sur un groupe Ravelry : tricoter ou crocheter son propre Everest personnel. LA chose qui demanderait toutes vos ressources tricotesques. Je ne sais pas si le KAL aura lieu, mais je peux vous parler de mon Everest personnel : les jeux de couleurs, torsades ou dentelles figuratifs.

Pour la couleur, je pense à cette merveille de double knitting qu'est le Central Park Coat

Pour les torsades, l'Enchanted Forest de Donna Karan (c'est le dos qu'il faut regarder, avec son paysage) ou le pull à tête de mort inspiré d'Alexander McQueen.

Pour la dentelle, un seul nom : Sharon Winsauer! des libellules aux dragons, en passant par les ballerines ou les petits oiseaux, c'est la reine de la dentelle figurative.

Mais ce que je voudrais vraiment, c'est faire mon propre motif personnel. Sûrement, il y a plus à explorer? Mais avec ma fatigue ces temps-ci, je me vois encore moins réussir tel tour de force qu'en temps normal.

Et vous, quel serait votre Everest personnel?

mardi 11 novembre 2014

Sleepy - Endormie

Today I'll write about another symptom. To illustrate it : I went to bed at 20h00 yesterday  (because I wanted to avoid the 20h00 news on tv that the household is watching, but also because I took my medication and it makes me sleepy. I slept till 04h00, got up to drink and read a little, went back to sleep at 05h00 after taking my morning med, slept till 11h00, had a bite then, got back to sleep at noon and finally woke up at 16h00. When they talk about depression or other mental health disorders, they often talk only about insomnia, but the exact contrary happens too. I'm reluctant to call it hypersomnia because it has really strict guidelines, but the feeling is there. My sleep schedule is totally messed up. When I had a job, I woke up one hour before I should be there (but got up 30 minutes later because it's very hard for me to get out of sleep. It can take me up to 1.30or 2 hours to get up after I'm awake nowadays, it's like I don't control my body), be it 9h00 or 16h00, and when I got back home I took a bite and went back to sleep. My sleep really got out of control when I was declared mentally inapt for my job, as depression added to my already there symptoms. In a few years I gradually got better, but now my anxiety is playing with me again and anxiety killers make me very sleepy during the day again. Yesterday I was discussing it with my singing teacher (she knows all about my mental health state; it would have been hard to hide it when I went to class drugged to the nose), about how it's hard to stay vigilant about all the things I must be aware of while singing while half asleep, and also that when I go back to a normal sleep schedule, singing will be more gratifying and I will at last progress. I agree with her. And there's more to it. I'm searching for a job, which is hard because most of the jobs I could take have you to work with the public, which got me pronunced mentally inapt for it last time already. But if I do find a job, how will I be able to hold it? Ideally, I should go to an ESAT (Établissement de service d'aide et de travail, a workshop for people with various disabilities). The competent office has agreed I could join one but it will be either one in Paris where they are reluctant to send me the paperwork I should fill, and anyway I should go there by bus and RER, which is hard on a good day and impossible if the train is crowded, like during a strike (and this is the RER line that goes the most on strike and has the most technical failures). There is an ESAT in my town, as a matter of fact it is 4km from my home, I could bike there, but the only workshop that still has room for me is ironing, and my mother would be very disappointed if I went there. I'm not imagining this. She clearly said to me she didn't want me to go there. So I don't know what to do...

lundi 10 novembre 2014

A thing of beauty - Beauté evanescente

This is one of the finest irish crochet pieces I know. I'm thinking about it a lot lately because a Ravelry buddy wants to make her own irish crochet wedding gown and I'd want to contribute a motif.

It's very well known, but I'd rather talk more about it than less : the Antique Pattern Library page is a priceless ressource on irish crochet. My favourites are the Priscilla books and the Albums De Guipure d'Irlande by Mme Hardouin. All of this is in the public domain, so this is free to use.

C'est l'une des plus belles pièces de crochet irlandais, à mon avis. J'y pense beaucoup en ce moment car une copine de forum Ravelry veut faire sa robe de mariée en crochet irlandais et je voudrais contribuer un motif.
Un truc très connu, mais mieux vaut trop le répéter que pas assez : l'Antique Pattern Library est une source magistrale pour le crochet irlandais. En particulier les livres Priscilla et les six Albums de Guipure d'Irlande de Mme Hardouin. Tout est dans le domaine public, donc gratuit.

My own experience with irish crochet : I made a choker thanks to the Priscilla books in 2009. I was then recovering from a big decompensation that happened in january 2008 and crochet was my way to cope with the madness and ground myself into reality. I went back to work in september 2009. My choker was acting as a lucky talisman to help me cope, as I still was fragile. One day I was feeling bloated and choking so I put my choker in my bag. When I finished my working day, my purse was open and the choker was missing. I was devastated. Another bad thing about this job....

Ma propre expérience du crochet irlandais  : un ras du cou fait grâce aux deux tomes Priscilla en 2009. J'étais en arrêt de travail après une grosse décompensation en janvier 2008 et le crochet était ma façon de supporter toute cette folie, de me raccrocher à la réalité. Je suis retournée travailler en septembre 2009. Mon ras du cou me servait de doudou protecteur pour résister car j'étais encore fragile. Un jour je me sentais bouffie et en train d'étouffer et je l'ai mis dans mon sac. A la fin de ma journée de travail, mon sac était ouvert et le collier manquait. Encore une bien belle chose à propos de ce job...
(0.6mm hook, I was proud of myself. I wonder where it is now. Maybe destroyed - Crochet 0.6mm, j'étais fière. Je me demande où il est maintenant. Peut-être détruit :/)

dimanche 9 novembre 2014


So a dear friend gave me a Craftsy class on double knitting with Lucy Neatby (I want to be her when I grow up ;) ). I'm so happy!
What I really  want to make is a jacket with the back from this 1790 pierrot, in white and turquoise, I wonder if this is possible?

Une amie m'a offert une classe Craftsy sur le double knitting avec Lucy Neatby (je veux devenir elle quand je serai grande ;) ). Je suis super contente!
Je ne sais pas si c'est possible, mais j'aimerais m'inspirer de ce pierrot de 1790, en blanc et turquoise, pour le dos.

 (Germanisches National Museum; link dead)

 (just for eyecandy)

samedi 8 novembre 2014

In the neon unknown

In the grey of the streets
In the neon unknown
I look for a sign 
That I'm not on my own
That I'm not here alone
Stone, the world is stone
But I saw it once
With the star in my eyes.
When each colour rang out
In a thunderous chrome.
It's no trick of the light
I can't find my way home.
In a world of stone.
Cyndi Lauper - The World Is Stone. Gorgeous but so sad. And the original french song is even sadder.

I don't like neon and black. Or more precisely, not anymore. It reminds me too much of my babybat days. But I've just discovered I love allover grey with just a touch of neon. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of making a striped grey and black Nuvem with a thin neon pink edging. So, further in this post I'll link to some Ravelry inspiration. I wanted to link to projects, but I didn't know if the people who have made these projects would agree with my linking, even if one has to register to Rav to see them. So I restricted myself to patterns. But do a project search with the "neon" tag, and a myriad of beauties will appear, sweaters with a wee touch of neon, in particular :)

Je n'aime  pas le fluo avec le noir. Ou plus précisément, je n'aime plus; ça me rappelle trop mes jours de babybat. Mais je viens de découvrir que j'adore le gris avec juste une touche de fluo. En fait, je pense sérieusement à un Nuvem gris et noir rayé avec juste une mince bande de rose fluo au bord. Plus bas dans ce billet je vais donc linker vers un peu d'inspiration Ravelry. Au début je voulais poster des liens vers des projets, mais je me suis dit que les tricoteuses de ces projets ne seraient peut-être pas d'accord, même s'il faut s'inscrire sur Rav pour les voir. Je me suis donc contentée des patrons. Aussi, faites une recherche de projets avec "neon" comme tag, vous verrez une myriade de beautés, notamment des pulls avec juste un liséré.

jeudi 6 novembre 2014

sensitive subject - Sujet sensible

For once I won't be posting fluff, and instead tell you about this obsession I have right now : I've been hospitalised twice already and these days I have an obsession with going back there. Not that I am glamourizing hospital, on the contrary, I really don't want to go. But I dream that a nurse is checking on me at night while I sleep, or that I get anxious because one can't open windows more than 10cm. I keep having flash-backs, despite the fact that I have very few memories of over there, because of my being heavily drugged and almost always sleeping. I keep remembering how my first roomate terrorized me, but that I refused to change room because oddly enough, she was my only social contact I had established there. I keep searching a good purse pattern, because I don't have a small cross body purse anymore and it's the only kind that you can wear all the time to keep your phone and moneypurse safe with you (as I don't smoke and can't give cigarettes, the only way I had found for others to tolerate me was offering them cofee from the vending machine from time to time). And I want to learn shuttle tatting because I remember I couldn't use needles out of the occupational therapy room. I wonder how I would be allowed a tiny steel crochet for the picots, though...
I'm able to cope with it, but it's like a smoke smell permeating everything in my life these days. Psych upped my med yesterday, so hopefully I will be get rid of this in a few days. Next appointment is in three weeks, I wonder how I will cope with that, though, it's too far away.

Cette fois-ci, pas de traduction française pour le moment.

mercredi 5 novembre 2014

Almost finished - presque fini

I finished the biggest part of my wrap sweater :

J'ai fini la plus grande partie de mon cache-cœur :

Now I'll have to crochet leaves and branches to decorate it. Bad photoshop to give you an idea :

Ne reste plus maintenant qu'à crocheter des vrilles et feuilles pour le décorer. Mauvais photoshop de ce que ça pourrait donner :