As I sit here and indulge in my thoughts, I keep finding my self making a check list of things I need to do before I go back to work on Monday. As the list grows, the hours seem to disappear. I have got half of the list done and still have a day left. At one point in my life, I use to live to see another face. Now it seems I live to work. My life, which was full of life, is now lifeless. I live to be living. I want to live to be alive, yet, like always, people give up on me. My efforts are fruitless. My will, slowly being broken, is leaving me one; day at a time. Lately I have become a person watcher. No, not like a pervert, even though it seems the theme of recent time is sex and money. I like to watch people reactions and action that are express through facial reactions and body language. A person's face and body can tell a story that the person can not tell. You can see stress, happiness, feeling of lost, broken, and so many more feelings that I won't indulge. I see beautiful people and down right dirty people. As I see people faces, and I start to see the meaning of life. Ask the question then, What's the meaning of life. Well, it's what you make of it. A simple man will live a simple life, but one can not say he lived a dull life nor a exciting life. Only the man can say what kind of life he lived. So, I say, never judge a man by what he has in physical terms, judge a man what he has to offer as in wisdom and stories of the past. money can make you feel secure but it will not make you a better person. A poor old man, who comes into my work told me that when he was a young lad, he had dreams of riches, careers and travel. He had money that his parents left him. He had money he had earn over the years. Yet this was his unhappy time of his life as he told me. The old man left shortly after that. I haven't seen the old man since he left last week. A friend of his said he has left to find some one. To this day i wonder, is that some one the reason why his life was unhappy. Another point of the story could have been one man wishes is another man's torture. Did he felt force to travel and live a life, fueled by other people's ideas of a successful life or was it as he wished he had done something different. I may never know. The man is old, he could pass on before I see him again. Will I ever see him again, ah, well, I do know I like cigars now. Smoked one every other day for the past week. Interesting, well, maybe not. One thing for sure, I will not inhale a cigar. The first day I inhaled every drag off of the cigar, yeah, got sick. Anyhow, it's time for me to do something else.
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