Success, failure, and whatever that all means

I'm a failure.

I'm not being hard on myself when I say that, I just mean to say that sometimes, I fail. It's not a judgment, merely a fact.

I'm also a success.

I'm not saying that to pump my ego, I just mean to say that sometimes, I succeed. It's not a judgment, merely a fact.

I read something this week from Joshua Fields Millburn about letting go of sentimental things. It's not something I do often, or well. My Moment helped a little bit last week. I did shed some books and some kitchen items (seriously, we had multiple pots and pans that we haven't used in at least two years), but I certainly kept books that people had written in, even if I don't plan to read them again.

Also: I have a boatload of photos. I'm going to put in the hours to digitize those.

Yeah, digression. Success, failure. Right. That's where we're going.

I'm reworking my priorities, what I understand success and failure to be, and how I approach stuff.

And by stuff, I mean stuff. Physical things.

Memories are stored inside us, not in attics, basements, airtight boxes or vacuum-sealed bags. Not even in pages or picture frames or newspaper clippings or boxes with motivational sayings on them.

The more I reflect on my life, the more successful I see I've been.

Onward.