The shame of my embarrassing public addiction
Pastiche
Benjamin Baxter |
AT THE RISK of sounding melodramatic, I have a confession to make. I do this certain thing in public that inspires confusion and disgust from people who witness the great and terrible talent of mine.
I’ve tried to stop, but this behavior is so relaxing I’m afraid I just can’t seem to be able to. It relieves stress and negates tension and is a good way to pass the time through some of the dead time in many of my classes.
People are sometimes shocked and appalled when I start myself up, but some are fascinated and try to join in. “How do you do that?” one asks. “But why?” another inquires. “Could you teach me?” says the third.
 I tell them if they get their own equipment they can join in, and I would be more than happy to teach them, but it is usually at that time our professor notices what we’re talking about.
Though I am shamed to admit it, I often tend to invite our teacher into our little game.
Yet the observations still come, in even greater frequency now that I have drawn the professor’s attention.
The biggest challenge I face is keeping myself discrete, but as my schedule is usually classes back-to-back, I never have the advantage of sitting in the furthest back of the classroom.
The reactions I recieve can be anywhere from less than encouraging to more than discouraging, a dichotomy which tends to confuse my intentions.
“I thought only girls could do that. So, when you’re making that knot, do you do up through the bottom first or through the back? Who taught you to do that? That’s really long. How long have you been working on it?”
Some people consider it a challenge to emulate my talents. Their interest remains perplexing and yet uncanny in the resemblence to my own.
“How much do you have here? Are you going to use all of it? How much does it usually take? How fast can you go?”
Yes, my friends, I have a problem. And, as I am sure is readily evident, my problem affects my performance in all areas of social interaction that I am a vastly different person than I was as little as a week ago.
And though I am loath to admit this as publicly as I do it, I will.
Out of respect for common decency, out of genuine shame, and out of a kind of appreciation for how rare it reveals itself to each of us, I hereby acknowledge this, my greatest fault.
I knit in public.
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