thank you Henry David Thoreau . . .

. . . for reminding me that my house, and it's decoration, and the furniture inside aren't as important as I sometimes think they are.

I went to look at apartments today in early preparation for my lease ending in January, and found myself wishing I could afford a more luxurious place than my current options. insert sad face here. Later I went to the park to read some Walden and get some sun (because darn my Caucasian skin), and couldn't have felt more selfish and materialistic.

Now, I'm no Chris McCandless; I have no intention of leaving the comforts of this modern life I lead (again, that whole materialistic thing). But Thoreau does bring up some good points to think about.

I don't know how my relationship with Thoreau is going to end up. This is the first of his writings I have read and I can't decide how I feel about it until I finish. However, he has managed to make me muse on his words.

So well done Henry David. Well done.