So, I've managed to try and keep this up for more than a year. Not very successful, but if I Felt so inclined I could let you see the inside of my very personal journal. And then you'd get to understand that there really isn't much of a digression there.

Pretty much a slacker - always a slacker. Why couldnt I just marry rich and then pay someone to remind me to do this crap. (HA!)

The details: I've got an Aussie visiting. It's infectious, this desire to travel. It's the type of thing that is worse than meningitis. It itches up your spine, curiously - quietly...next thing you know you're gone. To the Head - you're flying and the adrenaline is more than anything that you've ever paid for before. (no I'm not on drugs mom - just the best metha-phor I could come with - ha.)

But it's made me really wish that I had that kind of freedom. It doesn't help the situation with the fact that my Brother is leaving to go and build a home in New Mexico. No, not buy, Build. It's not unusual - he's done it before, but the prospect that he gets to do it, simply because he wants to is what is killing me. I want to be there too - sun on my back - sweat in my face, my hands muddy and calloused from 'real' work...and being able to see the substantive progress that I've made at the end of a day.

- (here we go again - I'm about to start prosletizing so skip to the end if you care not to read)
We've missed out on something. I've been coddled by 'Better Living Through Science!' True that there is less of a chance that I might die from a hangnail...but at the same time this doesn't feel right either. Sitting on my ass for several hours a day bitching and griping about whatever crosses my path doesn't feel right either.

I can only remember a few snatches of time when I was blissful...and all of it when I was doing mindless - manual labor. (not so mindless actually - have the fun was seeing the puzzle completed - another metaphor - they are getting really mixed up now) Basically my lament is the exact same as every other displeased - fattened up - miserable middle class girl...I miss the romance of an older time. When we had to work for our "daily bread" but truthfully there is very little likely hood that I'd ever go for that.

actually... hell no would I be willing to supplicate myself to some other system so that I could have a 'romantic' ideal when I had daily chores that inculded crap like that.

oh well. so much for that silver lining. (crap - okay last metaphor)