As I prepare to head back West, there is the inevitable flurry to finish the myriad things I have, for no good reason, heretofore been unable to accomplish.
Today is a duty which could be described as grim. I suppose I could also try to view it as . . . (wow, I just paused for a really long time here) peaceful, as closure.
I've become a rather useless person in the last few years. There are promises, small but promises nonetheless, that I have failed to keep. Minor vows I have broken.
But I still have a sense of duty, tattered and careworn though it might be. And this is what drives me out of the bed, out of the house, into the heat and towards this task.
We do what we can, what very little we can, because that's just how it is. And you know, I'm grateful to be of some service. And somewhere deep inside it settles me down. For all the attempted altruism in the world, there is always the motivation of shushing your own demons.
We do what we have to do. We often wish it could be more.
(the post brought to you by the navel gazing before caffeine awareness group--strongly advising people not to wank on and on before being properly awake since 1483)
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