Last weekend was WWKIP Day, and being dutifully exhibitionist, I went down to Marin Fiber Arts to join the outdoor knitting group for a few hours. I spent the time working on my Intricate Stag Bag by the incomparable Norah Gaughan (Ravelry).
I've got the front completed (about time, since I cast on in July '07), and now I'm just trying to decide what fill pattern to put on the back. The pattern calls for a plain stockinette back (black, in my case), and that's just boring. Right now, it's looking like I'll just repeat the chevron chart over and over to make zigzags.
Anyhoo, I bring this up because another knitter was astonished at the stranding, and asked how long I've been knitting. "A year and a half," I replied, and she just stared at me.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that's a lie. I've considered myself a "knitter" for a year and a half, ever since I finished my first real object (the Medallion Mitts) at Thanksgiving '06. However, I'd been stumbling along for a few months at that point, with little skill or real "knitterly" tendencies. And really, when I sit and recall properly, a friend and I would spend rainy recesses knitting in the library way back in elementary school (somewhere between ages 8 and 10).
I find this kind of throw-back is true in most of my creative endeavours. I haven't been "a knitter" for very long, but I've always been knitting. I've been "a costumer" for the past several years, but I've always been sewing. It makes me wonder what I consider myself in the future.. I've made a couple quilts, but will I one day consider myself "a quilter"? I can write blog entries and clever emails, but will I ever be "a writer"?
Just some food for thought.