I have this theory about myself that vacillates between seeing myself as a lamp or a vase. Sometimes, yesterday being a good example, I see myself as the vase that hit the ground so hard when it broke that it splintered into all sorts of jagged and powdery pieces that it can’t be put together again. It can’t even be glued back together. No matter how much you try to glue the powdery parts together they fall out and plop onto the table with glue and an even bigger mess than before. It’s a fruitless venture even to try.

Then there are other days when I see myself as my favorite Arizona orange lamp that the mover broke when he moved me into my apartment. He felt so bad about it that he taped it back together with blue painting tape. It was pretty simple to do because it broke into two large pieces. I was annoyed at first, and I planned to get rid of it because it was broken. But over time it grew on me, and now I rather like it with the the streaks of blue tape. On better days I see myself as that broken orange lamp. Broken, but healing, and, in the process, better for it.

I want more broken lamp days, and less powdery vase days.