(Not to be confused with Knitter’s Blocks, which are awesome.)
When I can’t knit, don’t want to spin, and am not in the mood to buy yarn or roving, I know something is wrong. The whole thing starts with a general restlessness, and grows into a frustrating condition which I can only describe as Knitter’s Block (not to be confused with the more specific Sock Block).
Knitter’s block is to knitting as writer’s block is to writing. Having suffered from both, it’s the same type of self-loathing, hair-tearing, screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs frustration. I get Knitter’s Block a couple of times a year, which always prompts some introspection. I ask myself why I knit, what is it that I like so much, etc, and then contemplate giving away my whole stash of knitting stuff and taking up something less frustrating. Like yoga. Or learning to speak Klingon.
I’ve noticed that my bouts of Knitter’s Block tend to follow project frustration (also known as Sock Block), illness, or extreme stress. Usually when I need inspiration or comfort most, that’s when it strikes.
I won’t lie: Ravelry is a terrific way of keeping track of all of the awesome stuff I trip over on the internet. Push the “add to Ravelry queue” is SO much easier than my archaic method of bookmarking and hoping I would remember why and what and whom it was for. You’ll see a lot of lace in my queue; I’m sure at some point, I’ll be obsessed with something new and different, and the Ravelry queue will reflect that.
I’m sure I’m just restating what everyone else has said about Ravelry, but it’s true. If I’m having a bad day and I need something good, it’s right there.
It’s knitting window shopping, if you think about it.
Jasmin 2008 likes Ravelry because it’s a database of opportunities to use up the existing stash. It’s truly glorious how useful it is when you’re on a “less is more” kick.