perfection.
As Justin's father said of Eugene, "well, kiddo, it has everything you need."

Sometimes, I look at this place and I think, "it is good."

I think I could spend some time here. Me, my life, my work, my studies, my friends, my lovers. We could all spend some time here. It's be sweet stasis. Until, of course, I decied to wrench it all apart... but we leave that discussion for when the mood strikes.

Life is good. Sweetness is peaches and raspberry with vanilla yogurt. Friends every day and movies every night. Barbecues and fresh produce. Writing and imagining and sleeping and sunlight. Sweat, minus the blood and tears. Smiles.

I am one of the millions who lives a life out of middle america, except slightly more liberal and new age and with a bit more intellectual thought. We are happy, we decide to love each other and relish what boredom and what drama we are given.

Sometimes, though, we stop to wonder. What if we had been one of the few (the proud?) to live or die in glory, as vain as glory can be. And we question what it takes to be pulled into the spotlight and own, for as brief as the brightness may be, something dazzling. We can't fathom what that would be like.

But we realize, always and eventually, with comforting certainty that what we have is good enough and we will be great (and small) in our own ways. We will be kind, nurturing, hard, strong, beautiful, and special as we have been made. For our life is ours to hold and to mold, wherever we may be.

And that, my friends, is perfection.