Detritus

My life is cluttered.  That’s the conclusion I’ve reached.  Full of too many things that take time and effort and don’t have much reward.  The difficult thing is changing that.  It’s like having twenty peanut butter jars with only a scraping left in each of them.  You either throw them out (a loss), or you spend the time scraping them all out (day gone). 

Perhaps there’s a lack of high-value things in my life.  It’s like I spend my time searching everywhere for something, but I don’t seem to really know what I’m searching for, so I don’t know how to narrow the search.  I’m working an open-cut mine with a gold pan and a shovel and without a copy of "Gold-Panning for Dummies". 

I could get self-pitying and suspect i’m having an early mid-life crisis, but if I’m going to go that way, I’d prefer to be histrionically self-pitying and say my whole life has been a crisis. 

In completely unrelated news my grandmother had some back pain today, so I offered to massage it for her.  When I moved my hands over her back I could feel where the pain was, where it was worse, and something of it’s emotional flavour.  My dad was asking how I knew where the pain was.  I hate it when people ask stupid questions when they know they won’t like the answers. 

I mean, what’s wrong with knowing where my grandmother’s back hurts?  I strongly suspect that if a member of my father’s prayer group exhibited a similar ability, he would consider it a gift from their god, but if I admit to the ability, it would be evidence of my eternal damnation.  This game I don’t want to play is yet another piece of garbage in my life.