the world is so fucking infinite. Maybe that's part of why it's so easy to imagine really good fragments of lives I could possibly have and to dismiss the really bland or actively terrible myriad possibilities.
My mind is also trying to spew out a positive spin. First I thought, maybe my favorite artist in 10 years, someone who blows me away completely, is right now cranking along trying to figure out art stuff? Then I thought, what if that's ME for someone ELSE?