uniqueness-template

It is frighteningly easy to obtain a certified copy of a birth certificate in the state of Colorado.

I had written a long and drawn out list of things that went on in my life this past weekend… I realized that I don’t even care about such mundane things, so why would anyone else?

I had several opportunities to spend time with members of my family that I don’t get to see that much anymore and I squandered them in the name of “fun”.

The choices we make beget the consequences we must face.

The worst part is that I don’t even know what I did, and yet I am ashamed that I did them. This is not the person I want to be. The words “this is not my life” kept repeating in my head as I drove to work today.

The fact that today has been “the Monday from hell” hasn’t helped matters much.

When you left, the leaves came raining down, and the snow danced toward the ground–leaving me behind to try and make sense out of things that have no reason.

And now, a few of lines from a song entitled “These Apples” by the Barenaked Ladies (Words & Music by Ed Robertson):

A friend brought me flowers, she said they were lilacs
But I’ve never been good with plants.
Her next presentation, a new dictionary
She’d circled the word “romance”.

I’ve never been frightened of being enlightened
But some things can go too far.
Though sometimes I stammer and mix up my grammar,
You get what my meanings are.

My mother and I took some Halloween decorations to my dad’s grave today–I’m not sure if that is sacrilegious… I apologize if it is.

I woke up this morning with all kinds of plans, but they were put on the back-burner when I realized the Bronco’s played the early game. So now I’m just downloading some system updates, listening to some old MIDI files I created years ago, and getting ready for the work-week.

I hate being contrained by a clock. I wish I could just start something and see it through to completion without having to worry about being at such-and-such place at such-and-such time. I hate schedules. I hate jumping from project to project, never really completing any of them. My perfect job would be devoid of any stringent schedules. Deadlines I can handle; it’s the daily routine to which I object.