Once upon a time, I learned to crochet.
Let me back up a little. First I tried to teach myself to knit. I bought a little kit but I got frustrated and quickly put the needles away. Time passed and I discovered another way to make yarny goodies. It was crochet. So I bought myself some hooks and a book and again became quite frustrated. See, I like to learn things on my own, without having to actually communicate with someone else. However, I knew that if I really wanted to be able to make yummy scarves and blankets I was going to have to ask for help.
So, as it turned out, I had a friend who knit and knew a little crochet. She insisted I learn to knit because it was easier, but I was having none of it; I wanted to crochet! So she sat me down and taught me what she knew, or what she remembered because, as I later learned, some of the terms weren’t right and I apparently hold the hook incorrectly. Still, I left that night with a very ugly granny square and a smile on my face, excited about the possibilities that lay ahead of me. The yarn was my oyster, or something like that.
There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.