I had a poem in my head, but I've forgotten enough of it to make it not worth writing down.. That's what happens when I think in places without readily available recording material. Like in the shower.
How much can we salvage, from the wrecks in the sea of memory and time? How fast can we bail the sinking ships, holed by the cannonballs of Foolishness and Sloth, of Idiocy and Apathy? How do we patch these gaping wounds? And how do we dodge those deadly cannonballs, that threaten to turn the sea into a sea of death?
In games, when we make a mistake we can just start over. In life, we save what we can, then force ourselves to move on. In games, there are tutorials, cheat codes and walkthroughs. In life, there's only hindsight. 事后诸葛亮.
I know I'm doing something wrong, I just don't know what it is or how to do it right, instead. I wish someone could hammer some sense into me, physically or otherwise, point out the error of my ways, set me on the right path etc, before another wreck litters the sea bed.
