The Stuff

I fill my life with objects, people, and memories that are not permanent. I have weird ulterior motives that I don't even understand, and I'm not sure which is worse - admitting that I'm not perfect or admitting that I don't want to be perfect. Right now, my bookshelf is half-filled with the books I'm most proud to own and have read. The other half contains all the books that I want people to think I've read, or books that I aspire to read, if only I had the time. Sadly, though, any time anyone looks through my books, they only ask about the books that fall into the latter category, and I'm left to explain that "I've heard it's a good book, too..." I write a blog, partially for others, (because wouldn't we all like to think that people read our thoughts?) and partly because I enjoy my own writing. I love thinking about sharing this stuff with my posterity someday, even though I'm sure they'd be bored to tears if they heard one more story of me baking banana bread and laughing uncontrollably on a Monday night. Seriously, guys, my life is pretty boring. I use stuff to make me feel better about the fact that I'm still in Utah, without any prospect of moving or having some sort of grand adventure. Please dismiss the fact that my normalcy is unavoidable, and feel free to continue thinking I'm some sort of genius.

{Don't stare too hard or you'll notice all those aforementioned imperfections.}