One shoe on, one shoe off.

I have been in the process of shoe repair for the past few weeks. New shoes in April, $50 for a pair of The People’s Shoes. The week after receiving them in the mail, I walked my soul into them. A month afterwards, holes have begun to form, so I have been patching them up with pieces of peanut butter jars, sections of old longjohn material, and hot glue. I want to become a cobbler. Good as new, but made modest.

A month or so of feeling good about myself, not just self-esteem, maybe pride or a sort of egoism. I knew it was going to come crashing down. I deserved to come crashing down. A contentedness of being can only last so long, and one must expect that they will be down-pegged hard in a short period of time. A long talk, one shoe on, one shoe off, and I was reminded of some personal aspects I needed to work on, but was comfortable in my own self-righteous glory. And it just takes one day, a few beer, and a clouded sky to remind myself that pride isn’t worth keeping around, and that yes, I am still indeed among those that I hail the worst.

As completely inflatable human beings, deflation keeps our egos in check. Brand new shoes need to get dirtied and hole-filled so that we can cobble them back to a more humble shoe.

The cobbler’s work is never finished.