Sorry for the lack of posting lately. I haven’t felt very inspired to write, or put my thoughts together coherently enough to be read, though I’m sure I have plenty to write about. My life is pretty busy all the time, and so is my brain. When things don’t come out as eloquently as I’d like them to, I tend not to say or write them. Maybe I just need to get over that, and stop trying to be perfect. I didn’t think perfectionism was a disease I had, but maybe it is. It certainly runs in the family. I think the other day I may have had an epiphany. I thought that maybe my life will be perfect, once I accept and become okay with the fact that it never will be perfect. Does that make sense?