Anyone who's had the misfortune of being withing talking distance of me in the last few weeks knows my cloud job totally traumatized me. It was an awesome opportunity, really overwhelming, and just a big damn job.
This scissor lift saved my lifeIn preparation, I even took a class with Nicola Vigini to refresh and refine my skills, and make sure I did the job justice. And also, I needed to figure out the most efficient way to accomplish this job on a really tight schedule. Let's just say Nicola makes it look easy. It was waaaaay harder than I expected. Still, I finished the job and got paid. So why am I still freaking out about it? How many times can I use I in that paragraph for God's sake?
It did not turn out the way I imagined it in my mind. At least to me. The client was happy. The builder was practically sweeping me out the door and loading my truck for me. Now, everywhere I go there are clouds. You know, like in the sky. But that's not all: I see them on every TV show, pieces of junk mail, in the grocery store. They're everywhere, damn clouds. And I'll never get away from them. They're pretty much part of my atmosphere. Yours too, probably.
They didn't photograph exactly great either.Being an artist is not all fun and games. You have a vision of what you want to accomplish, and sometimes you don't get it to turn out just the way it looked in your head. Sometimes the builder says you have to finish today so the lighting can be installed and the floor can be grouted. Stupid details like that. I would have farted around perfecting that damn entry way for another week. I might even have screwed it up somehow. But still, I wanted it to be perfect.
My smart friend Wendy says I'm just suffering from my own unreasonable expectations. I met the client's expectations, so get over it and move on. Easy for her to say. She's my friend that forced me to knit. She taught me to knit left handed, like her. I'm right handed. She knits all sorts of pretty scarfs and baby blankets. At our last Knit Night at Chiro Java, after I had been working on the same sofa throw for at least one and a half years, I tore out every stitch of it and rolled up all that fabulous baby alpaca yarn into balls. It was just too hideous.
In this case, there's really no arguing with me that this was one hideous throw. It's a pretty damn hideous picture of me, too, come to think of it. All the other knitters at the table were about to wet their pants laughing at me and my hideous creation.
So I guess the lesson I'm supposed to be working on has something to do with perfection. And until I figure out what the lesson is and conquer this obstacle, I will not be satisfied, dammit.