My handwriting has become unbearable. Truly. It is frantic and runs all together and reflects far too well what is going on behind the hand holding the pen. But, for the sake of my sanity, I do need to write. Blog it is.
Another one bit the dust recently, and it has made me feel like I need to think about what I've learned from all these failed endeavors. Maybe failed is the wrong word. But maybe not, so I'll stick with it for now. You think you're learning something. You hope so, anyway. You hope that for every heart broken, whether it's yours or not, some tiny piece of light might come from it and that somebody somewhere comes closer to "getting it." I am coming to see that that's not entirely the case. There are universal truths that you come to understand only when you have lived them. Honesty is the best policy. Always be yourself. Keep your head on straight even when your heart has suddenly grown wings. But aside from those, every time is different and you can no more apply the lesson learned from your previous heart crumble than you can apply what you learned in math class to what Plato was talking about.
It's not hopeless, of course. I will probably look at this twenty years from now and say to myself, "Well, you learned this and that and blah and blah." And then I'll know that it all made perfect sense. But not yet, damnit, and I am not known for my patience with introspective epiphanies.

On a cheerier note, Hootie came on the radio today.

Also, welcome to Christmas time. I don't remember missing Christmas in the islands, yet I'm strangely glad that I'm here. Probably because I am finally where my sister is. Finally.