This is a view from the parking of Farmland, right before a storm. It mostly rains at Farmland right after I'm done working so it doesn't close and I don't get to leave early. I told my boss it's my last week of work and she hugged me and gave me two coupons for Papa Gino's which are two very unexpected actions.
Today was a long, sad day. I said goodbye to Liz and then later I picked up the phone to call her and see what she was doing and when the realization hit me it was a long and sad one. I've been re-appreciating the beauty of "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" for like the fifth time. It's some of the only music with the power to make me cry at its lyrics. The song of the day is "Two Headed Boy Part 2." Maybe this song, the beautiful sublimity of thunderstorm clouds, not being able to talk about it, and saying goodbye to my best friend, is what made me feel so simultaneously heavy and empty today. I think I'll remember it for a while.
When you make a mistake that breaks something you have to pick up the pieces and arrange them back the way they were, and try to glue them or hold them in position or whatever makes them look most like they looked before. No matter how hard you try to put them back there will still be fault lines that serve as reminders of being broken. But even with fault lines, which are rather unsightly, it's better than if they were splayed out and shattered on the floor, and when you walked by them you didn't pick them up but just meticulously placed your steps so you didn't step on any and cut yourself.
Groping blindly in the dark, how do I know what is the right and what is the mistake?