As I try to book our rooms/condo/etc for our trip in December I believe in a natural sense of entropy. Everything falls apart, including the human body and we have to rebuild and repair our old houses as needed.
Most people have a wish, a dream they work toward. It's nice to let it go and just sit back with a book and a drink. Many times we humans realize our dream is unattainable and we begin to resent our free time. Life is weird. I want to know how to do everything: cook mexican, use a sewing machine, use a synthesizer, play a piano, make the perfect fire in my wood stove, memorize the u.s. presidents, publish an amusing zine, find the mate that fits, etc. But the scattershot of my attention and interest has created a Lauri who can do and accomplish stuff okay but who has never excelled at any one perfect thing. Sometimes I feel betrayed by myself in this way. Everything is okay, is tolerable, but nothing is perfect.
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