I think about what I was doing on this exact day at this exact time ten years ago. Then twenty. Then thirty...
I think about what billions of people do while I blog.
I think about if I find a fly in my car and brush it out the window, where will it go next?
I think about if there is a specific amount of times I have to tell my husband that the dishes need to be rinsed of all food before they go into the dishwasher or they will never be clean and the process is worthless...or is it worthless to even try?
I think about what I will be doing in ten years.
I think about what my son is thinking when I try to explain to him that he is a boy and his sisters are a girl.
I think about if I am productive enough and if not why not? Is my mental capacity too small or is it a legitamite complaint that I have too many interruptions? Should I be doing more or less... and how do you evaluate productivity in a household? It is impossible, I think, so where do I get the satisfaction of completion? Or do I care?
I think about the person that answers the door and looks inside my world. Do I apologize for the mess? Or do I assume they understand?
I think about how much of our brain do we really use, and if it isn't very much, how do we use more of it?
I think about all the information we take in and wonder how much of it is real and how much is the telephone effect and finally how much is driven by money. I think sometimes that my job is one that was created soley for the sake of making a job for someone, and if we got rid of all the jobs that give information about what is right and wrong and study really important stuff that most of the world does not care about, would be healthier and happier? Or just poorer?
I think about how much of continuing education makes us smarter and how much makes us dumber.
I think it would be cool if I had sticks of different colors and if I touched an area with that stick, the whole uninterruped area would fill in that color of stick.
I think about the things that were said and done in this very room before I lived in this house, or this ground. Do we live where Indians lived? Do we live on a burial ground?
I think about what my husband was doing the day I was born.
I don't ever think about aliens.
I think about what life would be like if I didn't think so much. I think I'd like it!