When I Was In Middle School, I Tried To Learn How To Crochet. I Knew How To Knit Already, So I Figured

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

More Posts from Bustlingblankverse and Others

1 year ago

make bad art or you will always feel bad about your art. Make bad art until you find joy in the crooked lines and the off colours. Make bad art because art is about expression and artwork is never ugly because it was made by someone who has lived a life no one else will ever live. Make bad art and find love through ugly. Make bad art so you make art at all. Make bad art.


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1 year ago

Reblog so everyone can hear what they need.


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1 year ago
Once A Little Boy Went To School. One Morning The Teacher Said: “Today We Are Going To Make A Picture.”

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

1 year ago
Closing Shifts.
Closing Shifts.
Closing Shifts.

Closing shifts.

1 year ago
The St. Louis Star And Times, Missouri, November 4, 1910
The St. Louis Star And Times, Missouri, November 4, 1910
The St. Louis Star And Times, Missouri, November 4, 1910

The St. Louis Star and Times, Missouri, November 4, 1910


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7 months ago

adhd is fun bc everything I got taught is backwards

a good day makes good sleep

starting with a lil treat gets the work done

More things to do is less overwhelming

don’t make a plan just get in there

you’ll never take good care of what you don’t like so throw it out (this one is my favorite bc it’s easy to see what you don’t like)


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11 months ago
Image of a distressed-looking person with curly hair in the front window of a trolley, framed by red text that reads "we all know about the trolley problem." The words "trolley problem" appear to be dripping with blood.
Red text that reads "An impossible scenario of life and death: who do you kill? One innocent orphan boy, or a group of wanted criminals?" accompanied by a drawing of split tracks with an orphan boy on the left and a row of criminals on the right. They are all tied with ropes.
Red text that reads "Your elderly grandma? Or a child you don't know?" On the left is a drawing of a curly-haired smiling old woman, and on the right is a black-haired grinning child. Both have a red, dripping hole in the center of their chests.
Red text that reads "we see it when we vote," then a drawing of a bloody hand with a pen above a ballot. The options are "Dr. Evil" and "Cruella D." The red text continues, "when we buy," with a drawing of another bloody hand holding red-stained cash.
A drawing of a woman lying in bed looking up at her hands as they drip with blood, framed by red text that reads "we dream of it in visions of the apocalypse."
A drawing of a person clutching their own hands, once again covered in blood. A red, dripping "X" is on their chest, and their face is splattered with red as well. They look deeply haunted, and they are surrounded by black scribbly shading. "But at some point," the red text reads, "when we are tired of choosing who deserves to be spared, it becomes relevant to ask..."
A red background behind drawings of faceless people in black suits and white ties, only differentiated by head and facial hair. In the foreground is a fist at someone's side, dripping with blood onto doubly carved-in red text that reads, "who is tying people to the tracks?"

the trolley problem vs. systemic oppression: a comic.


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4 months ago

really crazy how much one (1) friend hang out can do for your mental health. do people know about this?

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bustlingblankverse - Bustling Blank Verse
Bustling Blank Verse

~ Poetry Blog in Progress~ They/He ~

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