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2001-06-17 / 11:38 p.m. ~Materialism~
Last week, when I was delving into Aries and Libra, and why Steve and I are perfect, but we just cannot work, I read once again that I am supposed to be quite the opposite of materialistic, and once again I thought, Huh? I have so much "stuff", but wait a second....it's not my stuff, it was given to me, by living persons and dead persons and hardly any of it did I purchase for myself. I merely keep it, care for it, albeit poorly, because it's here. I think about apartment fires, and the fact that some child could set this whole building on fire with one lit match and I could lose all of it. But would I care? It would kill me forever to picture the fear on the faces of Norma and Gladys, my two cats, as they wonder why there is so much smoke, why are their lungs filling with searing pain, but would I mind losing all this stuff? Um, it would haunt me, yeah, no doubt, but it would be a relief as well. So, today I try to do all I didn't do yesterday, and I skip the beginning of The Great Race, the antique auto rally, the race which travels some 4,000 miles across the country, real old cars, how cool, but I could not get out of bed, one more day to not have to be anywhere, obligations made only to me, obligations in name only. But there is cleaning, cleaning of all these things, all these mementoes, baubles, bibelots, if you will, "things", "stuff", and it's accumulated dust for too long. I actually removed books from bookcases, blew off the tops of them (one of the best ways to remove the dust), cleaned under them, around them, put them back, three bookcases, out of how many? Oh, maybe 10? Lots of books, I would miss the books, out of all the "stuff", the books and photos and art, that's what holds meaning. So much dust, so much time spent, and when I got to the little treasures that still sit atop my dresser I wanted to throw them all away. It was overwhelming, the desire to discard everything I once thought I could never discard, the perfume I never wear, the old miniature bong - why do I have that? I never understood bongs in the first place, who gave me that? Why does it sit there? I had it aside, ready to trash, but I couldn't, no, cleaned it all, put it back, all arranged, all dust-free for a day or so, and shiny, and pretty, all the books in the one room, cleaned, I handled them all, and I sneezed and I coughed, and I decided I had a large dust bunny right there in my throat. But I didn't even finish this one room, my bedroom, still have the desk and the chest of drawers, the crystal clusters and egg-shaped crystals, the treasures and the guitars and more stuff, and like an Aries I started a project and I wonder if I'll ever finish it. This was my Sunday. Cost of the War in Iraq
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