bored and imperfect

Do you ever bore yourself? Not that I am implying that you are in any way boring, because you absolutely are not. You are entertaining and insightful and witty and fun to be around. I’m talking mostly about myself. Sometimes, I just bore myself to tears. I just noticed that I have twelve unfinished journal entries sitting around on this site. “Your Drafts”, WordPress so helpfully tells me, and lists them in mostly chronological order. Only I’m too bored to finish any of them.

I’m thinking of posting them all in their varying degrees of unfinished states. You can complete the sentences, fill in the blanks, write the endings. It could be like choose your own adventure with unlimited possibilities.

Why do I have so many cookbooks? Maybe it’s because I have dreams about my past life surviving the potato famine. And all that kept me alive was my stockpile of cookbooks that explained how to make foods that amazingly, did not have potatoes in them. Or maybe I befriended a crazy cookbook lady as a kid and she bequeathed her collection to me when she died, with strict instructions to preserve them forever.

It’s entirely up to you!

And why do I hang my clothes in specific color order in my closet and yet am wholly unable to sort my towering pile of mail? Well, that one’s easy. It’s because I’m a loon. But with an entry that ends mid-sentence, you’re free to come up with something that makes me sound much saner!

It can be difficult for me to finish things. I’ve got that perfectionism streak, you know. So, I’m always torn between impatience and fear of failure. I can’t wait to be done with something, while at the same time know that if I’m still working on it, I have a chance to improve it. I can’t seem to find the answer to that ever-burning question: what is good enough?

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