Holy Bajoles

So I'm keeping my promise. I'm making my trivial blog post today. I was thinking about how the point of this blog is to reveal a little bit more about myself to those in cyberland, but to also share myself with my friends and family. However, in some ways this provides a little bit of a mask for myself. I still have a tendency to hide a bit behind my words and my pictures to keep from sharing too much. I'm hoping that in time I'll be able to open up completely on this here blog. I've already kept to my scheduled blog date. I'm going to try and blog every Thursday to start with. Once I get more comfortable and maybe even post more than once a week then I'll try to start adding some other form of media in here. That's my plan, Stan.

I really want to live in a house some day. That's all I've been thinking about recently. I've been thinking how I wish I didn't live in an apartment and I wish that I could run around a place that I could call my own. I absolutely hate temporary living and that's all I've been doing. I don't even have proper furniture to store and showcase my things. It drives me batty that I still have things in boxes and I have no place to put them. My mom suggested that I should just take the things out of the boxes and then turn the boxes upside down and drape some kind of cloth over them. I love that my mom was trying to help me out, but I pointed out to her what I'm going to point out to you. Just the thought of using boxes for furniture makes me feel less like an adult than I felt five years ago when I graduated from college. It's very aggravating to not feel stationary and secure at this point in my life. While I haven't read a lot of poetry in my life (and I know there is plenty out there), one particular poem always comes back to me when there are changes in life whether good or bad, easy or difficult, happy or sad.

The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood
and I-- I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.