I love watching “Miss Congeniality.” It’s funny without descending into the overtly stupid. And while there are gem-moments aplenty – who doesn’t want to do UV paint drumming with Sandra Bullock? – I think perhaps my favourite scene is the contestant interviews that take place early in the competition.

In response to being asked to describe her perfect date, Cheryl, the sweetly naïve Miss Rhode Island (later revealed to be studying particle physics), responds with April twenty-fifth: “it’s not too hot and not too cold. All you need is a light jacket.” ^[i]

I feel her pain: perfection is subjective and hard to describe. ^[ii] Creating a list of things we find imperfect is more straightforward: I can have one ready for you in seconds. Looking for the good isn’t innate to our species.

Or perhaps that’s a “me” thing. And since imperfection is already on the table, I think I’ll tackle this prompt – what does your ideal day look like – poetically. You don’t improve what you don’t practice, and I don’t practice poetry regularly. Although in the interest of honest disclosure, I’d semi-planned on writing some imperfect poetry anyway. Possibly with a photo-essay chaser.

In addition to bravery, I think 2022 will be about experiencing the new.

Those may be the same.

Perfectly pain-free 

the involuntary noises i make now surprise me,
the hisses and odd grunts a consequence of the lighting
running the nerves from body to brain,
telling me I hurt
again or still. 
who attends or keeps track when the day count climbs so high?
i don’t remember non-hurt,
but the constancy of now is new.
i miss respite.
i used to think I preferred physical to psychic pain,
but i wince corrected.
or perhaps it’s simply familiarity that makes the ideation-inducing mental mess seem preferable to sore everything.
but to feel the warm sun on my skin,
to smell the ocean on a breeze that kisses without raising gooseflesh - 
tricky since cold is as steadfast as pain,
to float weightlessly in warm seas that support the limbs and muscles that have betrayed me,
to float at ease with a quietly grateful and peaceful mind:
for me, perfection is peace.  

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^[i] I think I use “aplenty” and “at any rate” too often: I’m going to add them to my mental list of watchwords.

^[ii] Being under the microscope while public speaking is also my idea of hell.