SPACE OPERA: CONT.

The ship shuddered as the wormhole opened in front of the ship, drawing it in like a sucking black hole. Everyone on the bridge who were not strapped in were thrown around, slamming into consoles and each other.

“Nim, find out where the Captain is!” Mr. Erskin cried as another console blew up sending sparks flying around the bridge. Nim only nodded and ran toward the elevators. She stepped into a world of silence as the elevator doors closed. Leaving all the turmoil and confusion behind. The softly playing music felt surreal to Nim as the minutes drifted by. The doors opened upon chaos as passengers and crew either played bloody or dead in the hallway outside the doors. The luxuriously appointed quarters of the elite of their society, and the Captain’s quarters, were in such disarray Nim had to pick her way carefully around broken planters and prone people.

She wanted to stop and help, but finding the Captain was too important. She thought that something must have happened to him. He would have at least been in contact with the bridge even if he couldn’t get to the bridge.

Walking carefully, but still as briskly as possible, she finally approached the Captain’s quarters. Nim sucked in a staggered breath. The airlock seal was red. She stared at the door in a daze. Her mind would not focus on the though that the Captain could be dead. This must be a mistake. He has to be somewhere else on the ship, injured or helping the rest of the crew and too busy to contact the bridge. He couldn’t be gone?

Her fingers shaking she lifted her Phox, “Nim here Mr. Erskin. Can I get a structural integrity report for the port side of the ship? Heart pounding she waited for the report, but she already knew the answer. He was dead. They were on their own now.

That Creative Spark

The need to create dominates a person’s life, sometimes all encompassing or at others its hit and miss. What I have discovered over the years of sporadic depressive states and semi normal creative ones is that it is all part of the process of creation.

One day you want to lay in bed while the yarn surrounding you taunts you. At other times you paw through your stash and drool over the pattern books, looking for that one that will call to your need.

There has always been something that I have never understood. Maybe you can help. Why do I have moments, or months, where I have no interest in knitting? While people do take breaks from their varying projects for health reasons, family, vacations etc. I get into these, almost trances, where I am incapable of knitting. It really does make me more depressed. While I know that I want to knit, I am incapable of doing so. It is a vicious cycle.

Then one day, it starts over a week or so, I start to look at the yarn or the project on the needle and actually want to start again. I have the inevitable doubles and starts and fits that go with starting a new project, but it starts.

I have to say that even the work in progress that I have been working on is not perfect. That bothers me some and I know that I have made mistakes on it. I try not to dwell on those because it has to be blocked first. Just because it does not look quite like the picture right now does not mean it will not in the end. I tell myself, “self, even if it does not come out exactly like the picture, I will love it nonetheless.”

So, I continue on. Sometimes knitting daily and sometimes not for weeks to months. I look at those knitters and crocheters who churn out baby things and tons of amigurumi and I sigh. What a failure I am. I know I’m stupid to think so. Just because I do not knit so prolifically does not mean I am a failure. I am me, and that is good enough.