Feeling: beautifully blemished
Listening to: Lady Jane Grey - Twilight
Reading/Watching: "Homework, O homework, I hate you, you stink..." ~ Jack Prelutsky

I heard a joke once, that when a bride and groom are standing at the altar, the groom is hoping his bride will never change, while she is thinking of all the ways she will change him.

It used to irritate me, because I firmly believe that you shouldn't try to change people. I know that over time, people influence each other, and tend to change on accident. I love that aspect, actually. But it's not something you can force.

I even made my own jokes, once upon a time, about friends of mine: "They're very sweet, they just need to be housebroken." or, "I love him to death, he just lacks a bit of training." And over time, I would notice rough edges smoothing slightly (at least where I was concerned), or sometimes staying deliberately ragged in spite of me. Sometimes it took a week, sometimes a year, sometimes it just never happened. And if it was a big enough problem to divide us, I usually let them go.

Mon coeur wrote that he sees flaws in everyone, including himself, and wonders whether it makes him overcritical to see that room for improvement. I don't think so. And when I say that I wouldn't change anything about a person, it doesn't mean I think they are flawless, or without shortcomings.

Yes, there are things that could be improved. It's the definition of humanity: our imperfections. Are imperfections necessarily bad? That's debatable. I wrote a description of how my ideal companion would be. I was barely nineteen years old, more naive, more eager to please, more dreamy-eyed about the idea of soulmates and knights in shining armor, but even then, my conception of "ideal" was intrinsically flawed.

I never wanted perfection. Perfection, frankly, scared the life out of me. If I perceived an acquaintance as perfect, I figured that I wasn't good enough for them, and adopted a shy, reserved exterior (some have called it "aloof" ::coughDommcough::), which usually convinced them I was icy and snobbish, and effectually ended any chance of our friendship, as well as any chance of their toppling off the pedestal I envisioned.

So do I think there is room for improvement in us, mon coeur? Of course. But I believe they are things that come in time, and thus not worth mentioning. Either we are moving in the right direction already, or it is something that will develop on its own. There are also flaws that are endearing: little smudges on the polish that make me want to look closer. And believe me, even if they could be improved, it is doubtful whether I'd want them to be.

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