I fell asleep on the couch as soon as I finished my two pieces of pizza. Lin was reading, so I was waiting for him to be ready to start watching the usual TV shows. I stretched out, Myu curled up beside me and started sucking on the blanket and purring loudly. The last thing I remember is thinking how very, very relaxed I felt, and would Lin hurry up and get to the end of the chapter so we can watch Dr. Who.

Lin woke me up a while ago and we watched Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica. Well, I watched them both. Lin fell asleep half-way through Galactica. The Doctor’s new traveling companion continues to grate on my nerves. I didn’t like Rose at first either, and I grew to like the character. I guess there’s hope for this one, but really … she grates on my nerves for some reason. Galactica continues to make me wish it was a book so I could read the last page, find out the ending, and then give the book to charity, never to be read by me again. It feels tedious, endless, and I am getting so, so bored with it.

Lin’s asleep, and I guess I should be too, but I got about 5 hours of deep sleep on the couch, and that’s more than I get in an average night. Therefore, I am wide awake. I still feel really tired, but my mind, of course, is zooming along at a million thoughts a second. I sat down to write about one of them, but by the time I got settled in at the computer, I’d already had fifteen other thoughts, just as interesting as the other, so I had to sit and think about them, which led to more thinking and more strange random and deep thoughts.

Here’s a random and deep thought for you. Maybe it was the one I sat down to write about, maybe it’s not. I certainly don’t know at this point.

I am feeling rather blue about having to throw out my high school yearbooks. I know there are going to be other things in that room that have been broken or otherwise destroyed, things that will upset me to have to part with, but then, if they were so extremely important to me that I carried them around in boxes for years, telling myself they were too important to me to get rid of, why didn’t I take better care of them? It wasn’t ignorance, I assure you. I know how to properly store things. I just simply didn’t take care of my things, even things I thought of as being oh-so-very important to me.

I have a theory. For the last decade, I have begun to become less and less attached to things. I see how really unimportant most of them are. The truly worthwhile things, the truly important things, are those things I carry with me all the time: my knowledge, my experiences, my memories, my abilities, myself … and the people I know and their sum total of these things. I suspect this isn’t really a new development for me. I suspect I have felt that way all along about possessions, memorabilia and such, even as a child, but society demands we care about things like yearbooks and photographs and every piece of art or writing you ever created. “You should keep these things always,” it says. “These things are important.” But … they aren’t, are they? I never missed them. I knew I still had them, and I never once felt the need to look at them. So why did I carry those yearbooks through decades of my life? Maybe it was because I was told I should, by parents, friends, society, and not that I actually felt I should. We all do a lot of things only because we think we should. In some cases, this is a good thing. In others, maybe not so much.

Maybe I am just trying to tell myself these physical things we carry with us through life aren’t important to make myself feel better about having been a stupid ding-dong and not taken care of them. It’s tough to tell which it is, but I seriously believe I have never really taken care of my things (with a few exceptions — very few), is because I actually find no value in having a bunch of things or things at all. I just didn’t realize it when I was younger. Could that possibly be true? Or am I just a stupid ding-dong who doesn’t take care of her things? Maybe I should post a poll.

Or maybe I should go play a video game and allow my brain to have its inner dialogue without me having to listen to it all. If you think I babble when my fingers are on the keyboard, or when I am actually, physically babbling (something a few of you have experienced), you should hear the stuff that flies around in my head. It just never shuts up!