I oftentimes am very unforgiving towards myself. I expect a lot from me. It's a terrible disposition, to hold oneself to a standard of perfection rather than grace. It am currently working on it. Constantly working on it. Like right now, today.
See, today has been trying thus far. It's not a complete disaster, but I tend to over-exaggerate. So in my head it's the end of the world.
I left my bundt cake at home.
It is very nicely wrapped up in a box that is tied shut with twine. I was supposed to bring it to class for my one final today. It has berries in it. I love bundt cake with berries. It's the place of sentiment between your birthdays and scones. That place is wonderful. I taste it as often as I can. But I left it.
Food is such a big deal to me.
On top of all of that, I also wore the wrong shoes. My black flats without socks and there is snow everywhere. I did not bring a scarf to school. My phone is going to die. I forgot my time log. And I left my bundt cake at home.
Today could so be a bad day if I let it.
But grace, grace, grace. I will resist this urge to go sit under a desk upstairs in the library and read sad poems by Sylvia Plath. I will be glad and joyful and finish my last paper and work on some birthday gifts. I will accept this.
Being forgetful does not measure one's character. And if people judge you for leaving your cake at home, well, that is the content of their character.
Also, before I forget.
La is home.
I had a nightmare.
I need new jeans.
And,
"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some
blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you
can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too
high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."
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