Time Warp Fiber

Hello again. No, I have not been keeping up as much as I should. And today will be a day without knitting on the blog, tune in next week for the wool. I'm hoping that some semblance of normalcy will return after I have successfully acquired a real job. No, I haven't yet. In fact, I've only just sent out resumes. It has been more work than I had ever imagined just to put together a suitable resume and cover letter. And Winston-Salem, the town I'm living in now, is rather small, thus few job openings, even fewer in my limited skill set. With Butthead and I sharing one car, I can't commute out either. So hold out hope for me, I'll need it. The financial and emotional pressure has been very rough on me, making it harder to blog. That and I've been working a lot on shop related samples, and not my own art. However, this past weekend had occasion to let me step outside my day-to-day stress, if only a little.

NC Pride is held every year in early fall in Durham, about two hours east of here. This was my fourth year going. The first year, I had only barely come out, and was bursting at the seams with enthusiasm and spent the day wide-eyed and enraptured by everything around me. So enraptured, in fact, that I took little notice of Butthead always ending up very near me. He tells me he decided to go after me that day, although for a week or two he did it by ending up always on the other side of the room from me, never speaking. But I digress, the point is that PRIDE is always a very special and important day for me. It's a day of remembering that not everything is hateful and oppressive. Recently returning from LA, the feeling of oppressive has weighed even more heavily upon me. I worry about what I can put on my resume. Will my involvement with the GSSA lose me the job? I worry about what to write here. What if a customer where I work takes exception to who I am outside the shop and affects my position there? But at PRIDE, I remember why I came out in the first place. I see all these brave people around me, freely and wildly proclaiming who they are, unafraid, at least for that day. I see people I've never met, who may not even be gay, putting themselves out there to support us. These days, over my wide-eyed infatuation, I mostly hang back and observe the people and the parade, moved so deeply by the warmth of support that I often have occasion to be glad of the sunglasses that hide the extra moisture in my eyes. That yearly outpouring of love and support, the communion with strangers on common ground, recharges me. It gives me the strength to stand my ground, and never look back at that closet.  I'm not saying it isn't one of the hardest things I do, especially here in the southeast, but it is worth it. I can't be whole if I'm hiding, no one can. So thanks be to the organizers and brave participants in PRIDE, I needed that.

Oh, and this year, there were knitters. I saw them, in a little booth with rainbow colored baby hats and silk needle cases. I hope they made a fortune.