Monday, April 13, 2009  A list of honey dos clutter my mind. Yet
procrastination settles in like a long term illness. Piles of
things start to tower and my motivation to organize them wanes.
I often ask myself, "why do we have so much shit?" We can't take
it with us. It doesn't change me as a person.  Am I just a
product of our society? A low grade consumer that has become so
ingrained into the scheme that my questioning leaves me more
clueless?  I can't tell you how many times this past winter I've
thought about leaving it all behind, down grading everything I
own to travel the world in hopes that I find myself again. My
house is representative of my empty heart - cluttered with
memories of things, yet empty. The structure remains as it was
but the person who lives here isn't the same. No where even
close.  The crying hasn't stopped. The hurt hasn't stopped.  It
is harder when I spend a weekend home. I can get through the
week okay - but weekends are the toughest. And Mondays -
ooooohhhh mondays. Sigh.  Thi