I do not feel well. I am lying in bed and it is almost evening and I do not feel well, at all. I have felt all the emotions today. All of them. I’m nauseous. Again. I have a migraine.

My day has been packed with activities and people. New people. Old people. Friends. Family. People are so often exhausting, aren’t they? Relationships are a lot of work. A lot of work. I’m drained.

I’m certain I am no picnic to be around, either. I cuss. It is almost impossible for me to go for more than fifteen minutes without making a joke. I made a joke about Syrian refugee babies at a baby shower today. When the mother-to-be worried aloud about making mistakes, I told her she probably would fuck up some things so it would be better to go ahead and get used to the idea she was not going to be perfect. Who says that to an anxious parent? I do. That’s who.

It’s true, though. No one is a perfect parent. No one is a perfect anything. Some things are going to get fucked up. That’s how it goes. The thing is to not let the broken bits ruin the rest. The thing is to learn to find the beauty in the things that went sideways. The Venus De Milo is one of the most famous pieces of art created in Western Civilization; on exhibit in one of the most important museums in the world; studied by thousands. And it is busted up pieces.

You are going to get things wrong. You are going to try, really hard, at something and you are going to fail. You are going to get some things right. You are going to work really hard and you are going to succeed. Failing, it means you are in the game. You tried. You are making a go at it.

The sun is almost down and it will soon enough be night and I can take a handful of pills to deal with my various aches and pains. And tomorrow will get here and it will be a new morning.