You say you want a revolution
well, you know...

...we all want to change the world


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Sponsor my private revolution:

What am I selling on Ebay today?

Let the Revolution begin...
*You can be any age to join the knitting revolution. It's not just grannies any more.
*To join, just grab the nearest pointy things, and tie them to the nearest string-like substance. Wave them enthusiastically in the air, yelling passionate cries such as "och aye the noo!"
*The revolution requires that you supply your own weapons. Er, needles. *Knitting can be sexy. Sure, it can. Go to knitty and be inspired!
*Knit in public, and if anyone looks at you funny, you've always got a sharp metal thing handy with which to poke their soft bits.
*Get all knitting-zen on people. Then when you really let your hair down, you can get away with it, because you're "that nice person, who knits". *insert evil laugh here*
*Oh, yeah, almost forgot. The revolution will not be televised. Or... something like that.

I moved to Canberra last November, and am now involved in the best Canberra knitting group! ... so any locals or visitors interested, go on over to Canberra Stich N Bitch yahoo group and join us in our dark endeavours! I mean, creative meeting of minds... er, yeah. Something like that. We meet at Starbucks in Civic on the first Thursday evening of every month, and the third Sunday of the month at 2pm. Come along! If you feel shy, feel free to post online first, or email someone to ask a few questions. :):):) If you want, use the contact button and I'll give you my details so we can get in touch. Always happy to get the interesting people of Canberra out of the woodwork... I know you're there, ya just hard to find sometimes *chuckle*

Sydney Knitting Adventures continue at "my" previous knitting group in Newtown: Meet up for coffee, cake, and knitting adventures galore at Barmuda Cafe, Australia Street Newtown. It's opposite the police station, and across the intersection from Newtown Train Station.

See the SSK Website for details :D

You, and this many other people with a cramp in their forefinger:

Interesting in knitting, and what other knitters are doing? Or are you just bored, or farting off at work while the boss ain't watching? Well then, I have just the thing to keep you busy for hours on end... go exploring the wonderful world of knitting blogs. Can you believe there's so many of us?

I have my favourite blog-days, and these are some of them:

A hairy tale
Horn-y knitter
Musical tongs
God on the brain
Blogging from behind a mask
Creativity and productivity
I am SUCH a nerd
Deliver me from Swedish furniture
Feminist backlash
Modern beauty is a myth
Instant karma’s gonna getcha
Go feminism
Harris the Well Clad Fish
The love is in the food
Embarrassment, Humiliation and Joy
The birth of a grammar avenger
Traffic Lights, part 1
Spawn of Satan
Traffic Lights, part 2
A long time ago, in a knitting bag far, far away...

And my other blog, complete with a few little patterns:

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Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Days like this know how you have "turning point" days, where you can look back and say, "that is the point when I..."


I do. I have a memory of my first day at university. No, not my current degree, which I'll hopefully be finishing in October. But you don't have another degree, I hear you say. That is correct. Straight out of school, 17 years old and clueless as they come, I enrolled into Newcastle Uni in the Bachelor of Nursing.

I waited around three months, three lovely months of lazing around, not looking for work, just enjoying being not-at-school and doing my artworky stuff and loving it. And I took off on enrolment day, and all was good.

My first day at uni was a disaster.

It took me almost $20 in bus fares, and three buses over a period of about 2 hours to travel the 50km from Cessnock to Newcastle. No student discount for private bus companies, apparently. I remember thinking how much knitting I would get done on the bus; I was at the time working on an aran jumper which I remember frighteningly clearly. Not to mention that I'd better start knitting for money if I was going to be paying this sort of money in bus fares every day.

I didn't know about HECS then. I soon found out. Terror! No one at our high school had told us about HECS. In hindsight I can hardly believe how little information we were given at school about life in general, but to not tell us anything about this huge debt we were going to accrue at university? Hm. Would have been nice to have a little warning, thanks high school year adviser!

Then I was poked full of several needles. Blood tests. Tuberculosis injections. Yay for being a pincushion when you're stressed off your head!

In typical university form, I was timetabled to be in class for every one of the five weekdays, some days for only two hours. Um... four hours travelling time for a two hour class? At $20 a day? My austudy was about $120 a fortnight, and dad was in the process of being retrenched from work. How was I going to afford this?

And then the text book bill. Nursing texts are notoriously expensive, and my texts for the first semester were going to cost me somewhere between $900 and $1,000.

My state of panic rose steadily during the day, and at 4pm or so I hopped the first bus of the three-leg journey home.

Bus number two didn't show, and they only left every hour. When the next scheduled one came along, it turned out I had been on the wrong side of the road anyway, so I missed it too. Almost three hours later, I realised that to add insult to injury, I'd just gotten my period. What?! No public toilets nearby, in desperation I knocked on someone's door to use their toilet. They weren't home, but their young 10 year old daughter was, who very kindly allowed me into her house. I can't imagine what her parents thought if she ever told them. And of course I didn't have any tampons or girly stuff with me, so I scrunched up a big pile of toilet paper and hoped it would hold out for the journey home.

And I emerged on to the street to see the last bus barrelling past me down the road.

Mum drove an hour to come and rescue me, hysterical and tear-drenched that afternoon (well, evening by then) with my toddler sisters squeaking in the back of the kombi.

I decided that I couldn't go to uni.

Dad hit the roof a bit, which was sort of strange; I had no idea it meant anything to him. Mum challenged the decision, only really because she thought that I was making it based on having an awful day.

But really, that day was a huge turning point in my life, because it was the very first big decision I'd ever made for myself. And I stuck to it even though I was opposed. I know that when I have to make a difficult decision, I think of that day, when I made that first life-changing decision on my own, for myself.

And today?

Today, before the day had really even begun, I learned how to say I was wrong, and experienced the enormous relief that came with the admission. And... I took a major step in embracing trust, and faith in people once again. Although they seem to inevitably be very difficult, I am eternally grateful for days like this. Thank you (and you know who you are) x

Posted at 9:19 am by monnsqueak

June 13, 2006   02:13 PM PDT

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