Nearly broke my two week rule.

I am alive!  Fourth year is hard.  I spilled blood from a chick embryo on my skirt today.  I missed the Knitting and Stitching fair last week to go to SVP intervarsities, came away buzzier than I would have otherwise.  People were impressed by the fact that I was knitting away for the weekend.  I am making gloves!

At this stage they could conceivably be called gloves already, but I'm making an extra pouch to be sewn to the side so that they can serve as mittens if needs be.  They're for a friend of a friend, and a different friend of that friend wants to meet me to commission a hat.  And I have to make another brainmonster for another friend's brother-in-law for Christmas.  And socks for my mammy and maybe a scarf for my brother's girlfriend, and finish a secret thing I started yonks ago.  And the lab got a new cryostat so I can start sectioning my samples from the Summer tomorrow!  And I made chickpea curry as a late dinner, with a view to not eating much and using the rest for lunch tomorrow, but I'm not sure what's left will do for lunch.  And I put in twice as much curry paste as usual in my sleepy state and my mouth kind of burns.  And I may have volunteered to make a rabbit mask for the panto.  And I have to find a pair of size 15 riding boots for Prince Charming.  So!

Does anyone read this, even?  Who knows.

This weekend's makings

My friend Conor made a cast of my face for a mask on Friday.  Unfortunately I left it setting in my apartment in college, and haven't had a chance to go back in.  But I can finish it off and use it next year!

Fun fact: I find scenes in films where someone gets a bag tied around their head, or has it wrapped in cling-film, incredibly distressing to watch.  Moreso than most torture.  So this was a kind of terrifying experience.

My little brother came over and baked cookies for a VDP bake sale.  (You can also see the mask has a more defined mouth, I forgot the 'after' photo.)

 Speedy hat for a friend from stash yarn.

My mum asked for Amy gloves.  I have tiny child hands.

My wips and projects-to-be are all in college, so I'm contenting myself with knitting squares for the Henry Bear Blanketeers.  This yarn has been in my house for years - my grandmother used it to make a cardigan for my sister as a baby.  (That sister is now twenty-seven.)  I didn't know my grandmother - she died when I was three months old.  By all accounts she sounds like a wonderful person, and I would have liked to have known her, but I really can't agree with her taste in yarn.

The buttons on the cardigan were little yellow rabbits.

 Going to a good use though, finally!

Now to work through a stats podcast and then find a horror film to watch!

Dolling myself up.

I went to a party last night and tried to turn myself into a creepy doll for it.  I hadn't done a run-through of the costume or make-up, and ended up as more of a goth kid instead.  Oops.

Anyway, here are photos!

If I straightened and dyed my hair I could have gone as a Beatle!  Too late, too late.

Normal hair...

Hair full of gel.

This is just cheesy, and defeats its own point since the finger hides the stitches, please do not judge me.

And off I go to hang out outside Central Bank!

What are you dressing up as?

These should be mandatory.

There just isn't a word for how useful these are when you forget to put your circs back in the packet straight away.  Plus steel needles are kind of fancy.

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I'm probably going to vote for Michael D. Higgins on Thursday.  He seems dacent, and hasn't murdered anyone, which is always... the absolute baseline for giving someone power, not exactly a positive, but anyway.  In no way have I been influenced by this.

Words are tricky, except when they're not.

The internet's crush on Stephen Fry is perfectly understandable.  No-one, hive-minds included, shouldn't have a crush on Stephen Fry.  That said, I rather wish he hadn't said this.

I understand not caring that someone is 'offended' by gay couples existing right there in public, or by schools not being segregated, or by God being removed from the constitution (not that that's a concern in Ireland, ever.  And yet some people are concerned about the lack of Jesus in daily life!).  Like this woman.  This woman is a small person, and if I met her and she made me a cake and let me play with a puppy I wouldn't like her.  The problem is that in these cases, the word is being misappropriated, and thanks to this "I'm offended" has come to mean "I'm whining because the world isn't to my sensibilities, wah."

The word "offended" needs to exist, though, or there needs to be a word to replace it.  I know words change in meaning, but "I'm offended" is a nice, blame-shifting way of calling people out on thoughtless or plain abusive language or behaviour - an attack on their personhood, an offensive act in the "opposite of defence" sense of the word.  Needlessly thoughtful, actually, no-one says "I'm punched" after you give them a bloody nose.

The most bizarro thing is that even with the thoughtful "I" and shift in responsibility and use of a watered-down term, people go on the defensive if you suggest they've caused - performed - offense.  "I didn't mean actually retarded/I'm not racist/My gay friend laughed."  Good for you, knowing or blithely assuming that you're not a bigot.  Not everyone you meet knows that, and it's not their responsibility to give you the benefit of the doubt - you need to show it.  Not using dehumanising terms, or purely descriptive words as insults, is a bang-up start.  Otherwise, however cluelessly or unintentionally, you're attacking them.  Going on the offensive, one might say.  And then, through your actions and yours alone, they're attacked.  Offended, to use a slightly old sense of the word.

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My feminism will be intersectional or it will be bullshit.  I read the title of this post and thought "Wow I want to tattoo that on my face put that on some form of clothing," then I read the post itself, and felt sad and squirmy.

I'm not very fussy about labels.  If I find something that describes something I already feel like, I'll adopt that, but only because it sometimes saves on wordy descriptions.  I love learning, guess I'm a nerd.  I have girl parts, guess I'm a girl.  I like making things, guess I'm a craftster.  I believe people of all gender and sexual identities are equal, guess I'm a feminist.

The feminism one has always been a little inconvenient because it's a subset of what I believe about equality.  I also believe people of all skin colours, all physical and mental capabilities, all classes are equal.  Everyone is people, all the time!  These things aren't strictly covered by the term "feminist".  But my first feminist blog was Fugitivus)which discusses feminism, race and class - perhaps more extreme than I am now, but I have a fondness for the blog and author, though sadly it seems to have fallen out of use) which led me to my first anti-racism blog ,Stuff White People Do (mainly race-based but has some elements of feminism, as WoC get it from both directions - again, no longer updated but remembered with fondness), where I came across Womanist Musings (race, gender and sexual identity, class, religion, most aspects of social justice, really).  I don't know if I'm bad at logic and assumed people who used the same label as me felt the same as me, but or if the route I took to this section of the internet led me to believe so, but I always assumed that 'feminist' really meant 'social justice-ist, including feminist'.  You don't have to act on all the issues ever, but how can you care about one and not at least see the rest to be wrong.  Then stuff like this happens:

and some people actually defend it and try to call it a feminist act.  So maybe I need a new word.

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My little brother, who has just started studying in the same college as me, texted me today to ask if he could come heat up some food in my microwave.  When he got here, he had milk, tea, biscuits (two packets as he didn't know what kind I like), and two packets of pasta.  It made me feel all fuzzy inside.  Nice things happen too!