No, this is not a knitting blog.
I mean, someday it might be, for a post or two. In fact I’d like it to be. Add it to the list: I could learn to make chunky scarves and hipster beanies. Or at least attempt to, and blog about the hilarity of the failure. But for most relevant purposes, ravel is a platform to figuratively "knit and unknit" the jumble of, well, life.
In the spirit of the go-to college paper intro format, I oh-so-originally pulled out the good old Mirriam-Webster (via Google, of course, I’m not literate enough to own a real dictionary) for some annotation action. Some of the definition highlights:
ravel
transitive verb : to undo the intricacies of : disentangle
intransitive verb, obsolete : to become entangled or confused
I like that transitive verb in personal application. ravel is about “undoing the intricacies” of things that make me think. Things I want to try. Things I want to act upon, learn more about, reflect on, or simply rant about. Experimental crafts and recipes and day trips. Quotes or stories, new/old/favorite jams, bookmarked Youtubes. The rundowns of public transportation encounters or failed Tinder dates. Rarely, social or political stances that I’ll attempt to understand. Whatever jumps to the forefront at a time I happen to be in the mood to write, all woven through - “knitted” through, if you will - with requisite wit, whim, and sarcasm.
The intransitive verb to “become entangled or confused” is less than flattering, but an accurate comprehensive self-description. Hopefully a little for you, too. I’ve only recently realized that no one really has it all together. And if anyone wants to counter that, I’ll be the first to call shenanigans. Relationally, vocationally, spiritually, financially, mentally, physically… everyone’s got their something. So my newish approach is to try to roll with it. To embrace the confusion. To ride the ups and downs. To be knit, and unknit.
Why am I creating a blog about all this nonsense? Good question. I like to write. And sometimes I have things I want to share that are more than 140 characters, or too ranty to jam up Facebook feeds. There might be a recipe I've mastered that deserves more than a mere 15 minutes of fame on Instagram. And maybe, someday, someone will identify with something I have to say.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. For now, I'll be content conforming to the word on the street that blogs are the new diaries. Because in the end, aren’t we all just trying to keep up with literary trends?
Though I will miss having a tiny key to my tiny diary padlock to wear on fishing line around my neck...
