Come On Baby, Let's Do the Twist

Best Quote I Heard All Day
Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth--Ralph Waldo Emerson

I wasn't planning on writing anything today because I spent eight and a half hours today hammering out words that will hopefully help a lot of people learn to use SharePoint, a Microsoft web-based collaborative platform where people can share documents, files, ideas, and many other things. Last week, it was creating seven videos to get people up and running on a new application release.

Some may think it's rather ironic that I'm a SharePoint administrator and architect, among my other work skills. In fact, it isn't. It's one more item in the list of things that I do in my profession.

Yes, I know there's a discussion about me and my blog on Ravelry. I haven't read it and I won't. I really don't care whether there are negative comments about me. I probably haven't cared about what other people think since I was five years old. I don't know these people and frankly, I'm not interested.

The fact is, people who read my blog think they know me. They don't. Do I suffer fools gladly? You know I don't. Do I strive for excellence? Always. Am I compassionate? Yes. I've spent many years helping people, be it with knitting problems, technical issues, even dealing with grief and mental illness. I've never said no to anyone who asked me for help. Ever. And I never will.

People write me frequently with questions about knitting, spinning, manic depression, dealing with the death of a spouse and I always try to give them a shoulder and whatever answers I've found in my journey.

That said, I do believe in taking responsibility for your own deal and relying upon yourself as much as possible. That doesn't mean not asking for help when you need it. It means setting a bar for yourself and making every honest effort to achieve excellence on your own. It's the ultimate satisfaction. Excellence needs to make a big comeback. If it doesn't, we're fucked.

Jerry always tells me that I should be proud of what I have accomplished in my life. I am, but my satisfaction and achievements are things I keep to myself, like a snotrag that I can take out when I snuffle and need to rotor-rooter my sinuses. And I do snuffle, frequently.

As a child and a young adult, I was a chronic underachiever. I fucked off all through school, winging it because I could read fast, write well, and BS my way through tests and papers. I never cared enough about school to bother doing my best. Getting Bs and Cs was fine with me.

And then, I screwed up college on a manic-depressive rollercoaster, married a guy who was an anchor, and had kids at 19 and 21. I learned the hard way that you have to be responsible for what you learn because maybe nobody is going to hand you shit. It became a challenge for me, one that stays with me to this day and will die only when I do.

Recently, I began to consider shutting the blog down. I began it in the throes of grief and now, almost seven years later, I thought that perhaps it was time to move on. The question was, do I still have anything to say? I don't know. Perhaps. I write for myself and at this point, writing my book is dearer to my heart, a legacy that I can leave to Liz and Ian, so that they know what kind of a life their grandmother has had. I wished that my grandmother had written a book so that I could have delved into her because I loved her so much.

Joe convinced me not to shut down, for reasons that I won't go into. But suffice it to say, my gay brother is damned smart.

So, if you want to get to know me, meet me at MD Sheep & Wool and/or Rhinebeck. I've gotten to know a few of my readers personally and that is the greatest benefit of writing a blog. Otherwise, if you haven't met me, shut the fuck up. Although I may straighten your ass out if you run your mouth in my Comments, I don't assume I know you at all. And if I have to rap your cyber knuckles for something stupid you say, I'm sure I don't need you as a friend. I have plenty, all of whom I love dearly.