14 October 2009


If you want to destroy my sweater... hold this thread as I walk away.

Mmm, Weezer. I saw them in concert in high school, I think they were touring with No Doubt. It was awesome and they played the theme from Happy Days. I'm from Milwaukee so that was a pretty rad shout-out. But I digress. That isn't my point. It's about the unraveling part. And don't worry. I'm not unraveling... this is just an observation type of thing so don't fret, okay? Okay.

It boggles my mind how easily, quickly and seemingly effortlessly our own personal sweaters (forgive the metaphor, but its working for me so let's all go with it) can become unraveled. How little things can snag and pull and tear the fabric of our every day. And it will never cease to amaze me how some snags can be fixed and others are beyond repair. Sometimes it is the little ones that look harmless, a slight superficial blemish... then you throw it in the wash and the entire thing is coming apart at the seams. Then the big ones? The ones that look like doom & gloom incarnated as yarn turn out to be quick, simple fixes that leave no trace of their former damage.

How do these sweater ending snags and tears happen? It isn't ever a massive run in with pinking shears or shredders or wood chippers. It is a grazing bump against a piece of furniture. It is a innocent run in with a purse zipper. It is a seemingly harmless joust with a set of keys. Half the time you don't even remember how it happened. All you know is that your sweater is ruined.

I'm sitting here, looking around me, looking at the people, the experiences, the wheels that are in motion and where there used to be logic and blueprint, there is chaos and confusion and bewilderment. So many things have happened, so many things are happening, and I just don't understand any of them. I don't understand why bad things happen to good people. I don't get why a boy who has yet to really live dies of cancer. I can't understand why people who always do the right thing get worked over, chewed up and spit out in the end. I can't wrap my head around all of the unraveling that is happening around me. And as for me? I still don't understand why I haven't truly mourned and accepted my dear, sweet Grandfather's death. It feels like a movie. Maybe I am afraid of unraveling myself if I give in to it. I don't know... maybe there is just too much change happening to deal with any of it in depth?

I wish I could run around and fix all the sweaters of those I love. I wish I had all the answers and could mend the tears and snags around me. I wish I knew which ones were fixable and which ones I need to prepare for the worst with. I wish I knew why these things were happening to such amazing, caring and wonderful people, people who don't deserve this. I suppose I never will. And I suppose at the end of the day, I should just be thankful for what I have... thankful that my sweater isn't too worse for the wear (for now, knock on wood). But sometimes, even that outlook leaves me with guilt and worry... and makes me extra cautious for all those potential dangers lurking around every corner. Gosh, that's a gloomy outlook...

Anyway, those are my thoughts right now. I don't have any answers. No reason to the rhyme. Just me an my musings about sweaters.


Anonymous said...

Mah dear, one of my favorite things to do is thrift vintage sweaters, unravel them on purpose and reuse the yarn to create something new and lovely.
Wool can be a tricky beast, to be sure, but unless you let the moths get to it on purpose, it is amazingly resilient.
(Oh, sure, give the crack dealing knitter an inch...love you!)

Tucker said...

LM- that was a great response. Thank you! And you know you are my favorte crack dealing knitter! :)

Brittany said...

Tucker .... i love you. :)

Tucker said...

I love you too Brittany! Lots and lots! :)

liberal army wife said...

and sometimes we can fix that sweater, pick up the stitches, or unravel it from the bottom.

there isn't a reason, there usually isn't a rhyme. it just is. and we can usually overcome that snag, or that hole in the sweater.