Clutter -Trashy or Treasurable?

She walked into her daughter's bedroom.

The life history of a child stared back at her as if it had a life of its own.

Had much changed in three thousand years?

When were parents first required to keep their children at home until age 100? Her grandmother was a grandmother by that age. By accident, of course, but that can still happen.

Now that perpetual living is affordable for most average citizens, some experts predict that a typical childhood may last a few hundred years.

For the wealthy who've supported perpetual living methodology refinement for a couple of thousand years, reproduction is put off until adults have experienced their fourth or fifth childhood.

After reaching 100, her daughter insisted on stopping birthday parties in her honour. Instead, she held memorial services for ancestors who didn't have access to natural life-extending health benefits.

Today might be the day to push her daughter into a housing unit of her own.

But what would she do with the room?

How do you preserve childhood memories that are represented by inanimate objects?

The animated ones had already left to create memories for themselves, some living in species-neutral dormitory housing to learn alongside college students not privileged to give "birth" to new lifeforms in their childhood, like her daughter had, to get over the mothering instinct that crops up even in today's enlightened society.

Her daughter would have to adjust to a life without having a mother to run the household. At 500, it's time to find a companion with whom you'll select the genetic material to carry on your combined best learning/socialising methods.

Somewhere back on Earth her great-great-great-great-great grandfather was still alive and running a business empire he'd inherited a thousand years ago. Would he take in her daughter and teach her how to adjust to a life of her own?

Philharmonia in C Minor

'Tis a guessing game we keep playing, is it not?

You want to play but I grow tired of the rulelessness but not the unruliness or rudeness.

You outlive me by factors I see but do not comprehend.

Entities without form.

Not formal, either.

Neither.

It's just too easy to sell out, to forget the unconditioning, to give in to ennui and the mild euphoric hypnosis.

These words and sentence structures are part of the cardboard shadow box imagery.

I do not want to gain and therefore I get what I do not want.

Back to the false comfort of logic.

Recycling old storylines.

Breathing the same air, the same recirculated states of energy.

It always comes back to the issue of reproduction.

The rest is fodder for the udder and father.

This is going to be a tough year for me...again.

Best that I stay off this blog and muse elsewhere, away from interested eyes that can't distinguish artful scribbling from reality.

When characters are faceless/nameless, their voices blend into one emotional chord.

Here.

Near.

Can you hear 4400.00001 Hz and tell me you hear 4400.000011 Hz at the same time?

Seven billion people making noise - how subtle is the difference from one to another?

My fathering instinct morphs into random patternmatching tricks.

Not being a biological father, is connecting dots with imaginary lines all I have left to enjoy the remaining days of my life?

God help those whose lives I nose into to smell out unhealthy habits and potential trends.

I've degraded into a busybody.

Happiness, where is your short-term memory erasing tendencies?

I want to forget for a while but with sleeping my only natural escape I'm trapped into entering the world of random brain firings/repair known as dreams.

Can I forget my dreams before I wake up?

Can I forget my waking state before I dream?

What was life like before tinnitus and migraines?

Too, too, too many questions posed rhetorically for this melancholic character.

What's up with that?

Fast food leads to faster path to death?  Better life death through chemistry!

Not like any of these studies are going to change people's food buying habits - inexpensive and convenient methods are hard to overcome.

But there's something else to consider...

A migraine prevents its discussion here today.

Oh well.

Happy New Year to those who use a calendrical system which makes today the first day of the 365.25-day year!

And for the record: the Battle of the Sexes is a board game, not a comment about marital problems.  Marriage is an agreement between the sexes, not a war.

Personal note: one resolution for me this year - to walk more frequently, if not every day.

Rubbish Canister Enclosure

While my mother in-law returns her house decorations to their pre/post holiday conditions, our youngest Cornish Rex sits gargoylelike on my knee.

I look back over the past week and a half while looking forward.

Quietude.

Solitude.

Etude.

Thanks to many, including Henard Lumber Company and Pal's Sudden Service.

The days get longer every year at this time - some tell me it's because the Earth is tilted on its axis and it revolves around a local star.

I'm never exactly sure what's going on.

That's okay, though - I've lived and I'll die, having enjoyed the ride.

That's all there is, isn't it?

Feel free to disagree.

House for sale/at auction

When one is left alone to meditate (albeit in public view amidst crowds and family), one is no longer one.

Praying for people to accept what has happened and will happen with no thoughts/dwelling on what might have been.

Listening to conversation at a Christmas open house about: enjoying the Andy Griffith TV show, trying to sell a nice one-story rancher house in this economy, becoming a great-great grandmother, the 93-year old sixth grade teacher alive and doing well (the student in his 70s still appreciative of the teacher's positive influence), the city schools' band director recruiting flute players, the storyteller Doc McConnell's young daughter now retired with a teenage daughter of her own, Crook & Chase back at it again...

The world has changed but it hasn't.

One's 16-year old niece with a job of her own, buying her uncle a box of practical jokes (joy buzzer, whoopie cushion, flies-in-ice, etc.) with her personally-earned money - just like her mother and uncle before her, buying family gifts with their first jobs. Keeping her sensitive, artistic side open through painting, expecting perfection.

One's 17-year old niece getting engaged to a nice young man in the military - wasn't her stepgrandfather a military man when he proposed to his bride-to-be?

One's 18-year old nephew continuing the family thespian tradition a [BIG] step further.

Dogs making tracks in the snow.

Cats curling up under the covers.

What if the power to brighten a single light bulb was more significant than deciding whether to add ambiance for a holiday gathering with the flick of a switch?

Assuming much when assuming nothing.

What if, instead of filling prisons, we found meaningful work for those who were willing to risk their families' health and security to build meth labs at home? Fulltime pharmaceutical laboratory test subjects, for instance, earning minimum wage, hazard pay and medical benefits.

Turn self-interest into something more profitable.

Meditating the self out of the picture.

The father's speaking tours on industrial engineering in the U.S. become the son's blog about reengineering the species' place in the universe.