I don't know if you've noticed (not you Charlie, I know you have) but lately I'm being spammed a lot. I'd like to think these news readers are Chinese or something like that (you know, with a different alphabet), but it's not really the case I'm afraid. To think I've even activated the "Word Identification" and removed "Anonymous Users", and yet, I'm being bombarded. It sucks.
I have also noticed I have a bunch of new Followers... interesting... I sure hope these Followers will come out of the woodwork and leave a comment here and there, you know, so we get to know each other.
Driving back from a doctor's appointment this morning I thought of a few things I could write about, but by the time I got in front of my screen, these seeds of ideas had all died it seems. I'm sorry if my postings has been erratic and uninteresting. Even if I'm feeling good, I can't seem to find the needed "humph" to write. I will admit I spend time playing Farkle on Bacefook (that game is addictive, no joke). In the evening, since last Sunday, I've been scrapbooking. Thinking about this activity I can't help but wonder why the heck am I doing this? It's not like I'm doing one of my kids' album for them to enjoy at a later date; I don't have kids. I do enjoy the quiet time I spend doing that though. It relaxes me. Last Sunday at the Scrapbook Day, I think I was the only person there (among one hundred) who was doing pages about herself, ah! Everybody else was about their kids, no kidding.
Isn't it strange that I would accumulate so much crap (cards, pictures from every get together, travels, souvenirs, etc.) and in the end I won't bring any of it for my last big trip? Am I doing this so that I'll have something to look at later on, to remember special moments and people? Or am I just keeping busy until the big day? I wonder about that at times... am I wasting valuable time, time I should be spending trying to better myself for what comes next?
We all face our mortality in different ways, wanting to or not is not even part of this equation: that is the one thing that makes us ALL equals; we will, one day, die. I don't think I'm afraid of dying, but I'm afraid of pain, that yes. Things have time to change many times over, and my outlook can (and most likely will) as well. I was never one to think I'd like to live to be 100. I want to live comfortably and autonomously; that's what I wish for in my old...er days. I think I'm already over half of my life. I look at myself and there is no doubt I'm aging, my body is changing, so is my mind. I accept it (like I have a choice, anyway!).
I don't think I was born to do "something special", or that I have a life calling that I haven't answered yet. I may not leave my trace on this world, but deep down I have a feeling this is as good as it gets... and I'm ok with that.