the Clap

The other day I was on the F train, heading home from work, knitting the 2nd in a pair of socks for the huz, when a woman tapped me on the shoulder to chat. Now, you regular reader(s) of my blog know that this is not uncommon, especially on the train; people women will randomly tap me on the shoulder (on account of my headphones) and tell me one (or all) of the following:

1. how much they like/love/are impressed by whatever I’m knitting
2. relay a quick anecdote about their mother/grandmother knitting
3. how they used to knit when they were a little girl
4. how interesting/odd/nice it is to see a man knitting

Well, this woman was no exception, she tapped my shoulder on Delancy Street and talked me up ‘til I got up at 34th and hit all 4 topics; insisting that I was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. Though she used to crochet, she wasn’t very good and couldn’t imagine making a sock with such tiny needles (“especially four of them”)! She was an absolute sweetheart and totally made my day, as random well-wishers tend to. See, that’s the thing: I love having strangers (with whom I’d normally have absolutely no social interaction) randomly telling me how awesome I am; it’s become a bit of a drug.

It’s one thing to have my friends, mom and CawfeeMate tell me how great my stuff looks (even when I know it’s not my best work); I expect a certain amount of oohing and aaahing when I’m handing you a pair of socks I spent a month on, a hat which I obsessively worked in a weekend or a baby blanket that (despite having put down for, like, 2 months) clearly took the entire gestation period of your teacup human. When a total stranger feels compelled to break that invisible bubble between New Yorkers and tell you that you “amaze” them, how could you not find it intoxicating?

I can’t lie: despite my natural shyness, I like the positive attention (as opposed to when I trip while walking up the steps from the subway or slip and spill coffee all over myself). Aside from public mishaps like that, I rarely garner people’s notice. When I used to hang out at bars, clubs, coffee shops, etc, I rarely got a 2nd look from anyone; I kinda blended in with the upholstery or wall covering. I mean, I’m not particularly good looking (on a scale of 1 to 10, I’d probably rate a solid 5), don’t dress particularly well, and have no other characteristics which would prompt anyone to want to pay attention to me. Nowadays I don’t, usually, want people to pay attention to me.  I'm usually content just decompressing and getting home (or zoning out and forgetting that I’m on my way to work). Plus, like I said, I’m shy...no...really. I'm still self-conscious of my looks and my clothes. that’s one of the reasons I chose a hobby as potentially solitary as knitting. While it can be done in a group (Stichin and Bitchin at the LYS, Starbucks or your living room), it can also be done alone, walled in by down-turned eyes and a pair of headphones.

It’s nice to be noticed, though, y ‘know? To be told that a completely impartial 3rd party thinks that what you’re doing, is being done well. It’s especially gratifying when you think you’re doing well, too. it's thrilling to know that someone is paying attention and approves, without being something overtly narcissistic and attention grabbing as singing on a street corner or tap dancing on the A train.

Conversely, it’s a bit of a letdown when you think you’re doing something stellar and the people around you are paying you no mind. Not too long ago, I was on the bus (which I catch after the train drops me at 42nd) and had just finished grafting the toe of a different pair of socks that I’d made for CawfeeMate. I was so impressed with my ability to graft the toe without making any mistakes and with only the written directions on my iPhone that, when I was done, I half expected the people on the bus to start applauding. It was a huge disappointment that when I finished, I looked up and not a single person had seen my fabulousness (or if they did, they didn’t think it was worth clapping for). It got me thinking that perhaps I should start carrying a light-up APPLAUSE sign for moments like that. Actually, I’m sure there’s an app for that.