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The end of things
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I am swirling about the world of mythology so much that I can't stop reading to write a paper on the darn subject. I can't know enough about it in four weeks to write 1500 meaningful words about heroes.

A hero: anyone who lives and dies. The end.

What is left (and right) to be said of the dead is only good. For instance, my brother-in-law, 28, died on May 1, 2005 of a drug overdose. No hero there. But he never gossiped or criticized anyone and he was generally always pleasant and happy. He also liked to dabble with adventures that had him constantly interacting with new people. I struggle with the very things he was known for.

Anyway, back to my research. As I rock, read, and write at my kitchen table, warm weather has birds chattering about the insects who caught their last breathe. Today also has my two boys napping, which is such a miracle I am having difficulty owning the time that has been gifted just to me. Not to mention my paper was due yesterday. Six more weeks plus this paper left of school...



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