When I told Yann that I was a fan of Shrinkle’s (who I was following on Instagram before my hyped departure) makeup, he interpreted it as sarcasm. Makeup is supposed to conceal blemishes and enhance natural features. If you instead choose to use your face as a canvas for prismatic powders, you are supposedly inviting aggressively rude comments from people online. But, I wasn’t sarcastic, I do think Shrinkle is the epitome of painted beauty.
The other day, Yann directed me to look to the left. He’s so bossy sometimes, trying to control my facial movements. Then, he informed me that I had a spot of blood in my eye. I love receiving this kind of information! It does not freak me out at all!
“It’s not blood, my right eye is just two different colours,” I said defensively.
Irked by my reaction, he took a picture of my eye as proof: it really was a 3mm spot of blood in the white of the eye. My lower eyelid had been twitching all day, which was annoying, but not alarming. But, the photo Yann had taken was enough to conjure the worrywart in me.
I told Yann that he had to play Web MD. No way was I going to subject myself to more gory eye photos! According to Dr. Internet via Yann, it was a subconjunctival hemorrhage. Mostly harmless, but on occasion turns out to be the spider eggs that have just hatched from inside the eyeball. Furthermore, the older I get, the more I can look forward to these spontaneous burst vessels.
This wasn’t a piece of fun new information to learn about myself.
Three and a half years go, I knitted my first scarf. Since then, I have knitted four toques. I nearly finished a fifth in the time it took to drive from Montréal to Vancouver, but when I got to the stitch decreases for the crown, I decided my handiwork was a waste of fancy yarn and unravelled the whole thing.
I’ve started something new, but it is not going well. Reading a knitting pattern is a skill I have yet to master. It goes something like this:
1: K1, P2, K2, K1togbl2, *K2, P2; rep from * across, end K2.
2: K1below, P3
3: Alternate between rows 1 and 2, until you realize that you’ve spent hours doing the wrong thing, and clench your jaw so hard in anger that your teeth shatter.
Ah, what a relaxing hobby.
September is Deaf Awareness Month. Last year, I wrote about the awkward questions hearing people frequently ask deaf people.
This year, I wondered whether I’d have anything to add to what’s already been put out there. It’s not yet October, but already, fun-sized treats are on the grocery store shelves. What can I share about deafness before everybody can go back to being unaware of the existence of deaf people?
Over the past three weeks, the message that has been put out by other members of the deaf community has pretty much been: “Totally deaf people are so rare, so we might as well pretend they don’t exist.”