Burn This Mother DOWN!

is it just me, or are you ever set upon by morbid thoughts of destruction. the one i find myself having most is: sometimes i just wish that everything i own would go up in flames. burn to the ground. be reduced to unrecognizable ashes. i get this feeling most when i am packing my stuff, in anticipation of some sort of move.

being that i am a pack rat, i generally have too much stuff. it seems to be genetic, from my fathers side. i become sentimentally attatched to the most worthless items (dont throw away that plastic wind up walking tea pot! it reminds me of when i went to siggraph, this one time. no, i dont remeber when. . . yes, im sure they'll make more . . . no, you cant throw that one away.) so, i find myself plagued with these morbid thoughts of distruction. if all of my stuff just burned down (or . . . up . . .) , i would be without the burden of things. i could start over. it would be all new. fresh. then i realize that i would probably just buy all the same stuff over again, and nothing would really be solved. then i am afraid that my stuff will burn down. . . cause then i'd lose all of those pictures of places i went with people. all those sketch books and edless piles of fine art that i have generated over the years. the few pieces of hand made furniture crafted by my father. the guitar that my grandmother gave me, which illicits the envy of most guitar shop techs. the only piece of written history of my grandfathers time in WWII, which i hurredly wrote in a notebook in the car one sunday afternoon on the way home from church, when he finally and uncharacteristically opened up about it, and those G.I. Joes that Cubby gave me for my birthday.

thats when i then fear that my stuff WILL burn up, if i keep having these strange little wishes for it to happen.

i hope my stuff doesnt burn up. ever.

be careful what you wish for.