Wednesday, December 30, 2009
2009 is on its deathbed. It's hooked up to life support and winding down its final days, hours and minutes until it will cast its last breath and be over with in time. Not only ending a year, bringing on the first decade completion of the New Millennium.
And what a tumultuous year it's been.
I found myself still reeling with the damages the tail-end of 2008 left for my poor son and fighting court battles and restraining orders against his father.
I lost my job for 5 months and had to figure out how to survive, cashing out my 401K, which let's face it had next to nothing in it, and try to stretch it to keep a roof over our heads.
I got to deal with Governmental state agencies; Food Stamps, Unemployment and thanks to my son's father DCF.
I went from being in a relationship, to being cheated on and single in an instant. To then a few meager months later finding out he is now engaged to the adulteress whore, making me yet again wonder about my own misgivings. And the realization that I am Chuck and every ex I have is either married to or still with whomever they dated directly after me…with the exception of maybe less than 1% who happened to be let’s just say un-dateable in general and how I ended up with them will forever remain a mystery my family will continue to throw in my face until I die.
I moved. Not only my home of the last 3 years, by my office as well (since I thankfully got my job back...even if I'm technically still a "temp").
I lost an Uncle, a dear sweet and funny man who I loved very much less than a week after my birthday very suddenly, but he died doing what he loved. One minute laughing with his wife of 50 years on a boat with friends, the next minute, on the bow, dying of a heart attack.
I lost a friend. A tragic accident that left his wife and 3 kids struggling for answers and an entire community pulling together trying to figure out why. An officer, a soldier. A true American Hero.
Friendships changed or ended. Friends I had known forever gone and ones I have known a short time stepped up and were there when I needed a shoulder, a hand. The ones I least expected were the ones who helped me most, while the ones I thought I could count on until the day I died let me down harder than I thought I could ever fall.
My health as always an issue, since for some reason I look the part of my 30 year old female self (ok so I like to think younger....) but on the inside I resemble that of a 65 year old man. I got diagnosed with asthma. Solidified my heart condition, tore and herniated discs in my spine 3 times.
And that's just 2009.
When I think that a decade has past, it's mind boggling. That in the past 10 years, I got my driver's license (late bloomer yes I know), that I remember people freaking out over Y2K and potential banking disasters. I remember where I was September 11 when the entire world changed in an instant when terrorists took of from my city and changed another's skyline forever. I remember my best friend getting diagnosed with cancer at 27. The birth of my son, the best thing that ever happened to me; that made me a weaker and stronger person both at the same time. That I lost my Noni, my Papa, and then my father...
And so they say that New Years are supposed to be about resolutions, and about change. I think it's all crap. Idealistic and romanticized horseshit.
You get all amped up for a "new" year. "This" is my year! "This" is the one, the one to change it all! And then nothing changes. If anything it either stays the same or it gets worse. Sure there may be moments, ones you remember, good moments, but everything supposedly has those. (I mean I'm still waiting, but that's what they say)
So in order to keep with placated and ridiculous traditions, I will pretend to be resolute.
I will try to be less cynical and jaded in 2010. I doubt this will happen as people have a tendency to keep proving me correct that they are all assholes, so thus my theories that "People Suck" seem to be pretty right on, but for the sake of argument and resolution sake, we'll put it out there. You know, for shits and giggles.
I will try to make my body have an invisible bubble around it and try to stay out of hospitals/doctors’ offices as much as humanly possible in 2010. Now granted, I realize that this I likely have less control over, since I am pretty convinced my body is out to get me, but I will listen to those fabulous M.D.'s and follow directions and try not to slip, fall or trip on any objects that may reinjure anything that may already be screwed up.
I will try to be less vehicularly retarded in 2010. Ok, those of you who know me, know I'm lucky I can pump my own gas. My check engine light has been on for 6 months, I have a whopping red "Rejection" sticker taunting me on the front windshield of my car and I perpetually forget to have my oil checked. Yeah I know, I am the devil (you men are glaring at me with laser beams in your eyes I can feel it). I also partially blame the Evil Vortex that kills ever car I come into contact with in my driveway, but seeing as I have moved and the Fucus has been around a miraculous 2 years (a new record!) I will try to behave.
I will try to be less digestively pyrotechnic in public places when partaking in the consumption of adult beverages in 2010. Now, I give cause here because this does not happen often...in fact very infrequent, however since the last time was a mere 2 weeks ago and I was essentially carried out of said bar by my cousin and some friends after thinking at 30 that Scorpion Bowl races on an empty stomach were a good idea...
I will try to be more content with what I have in 2010. I say content because let's face it, none of us are ever actually happy because we can always do better, but content is an acceptable goal for me. I have come a long way and I have done it by myself. I have lost a lot and ended up learning more about myself and finding out who my true support system was and if anyone else comes into my life, they can take it or leave it because it is what it is.
I will try to do better to get myself in a better financial situation on my own in 2010. I haven't gotten child support in over a year, and it was pretty sporadic before that and I am pretty sure at this point my son's father owes me about $14,000 according to the State. I have my own messes to clean up sure, but I have current bills to pay and a 5 year old mouth to feed and I never want him to know there was ever a struggle in his life. He's been through enough. I work full time and I try to do my Mary Kay, which isn’t cutting the mustard, so looks like a part time job will be in order, but I will do what I have to do if that's what it takes.
I will try to lose 20 pounds and have abs of steel before 2010 is over. Yeah this one is never happening but I figure you have to put in that whole I will lose weight and get in shape resolution in there to complete the cliché or it just wouldn't count.
Monday, December 28, 2009
SO it’s over. The months of planning, the decorating and spending. The tireless hours of wrapping and smiling and cooking all over in a flash and a fervor of ripping paper flying about. Shouts of "Awesome!" and "It's just what I wanted!" and "Mama look!" and then it’s over.
The living room resembling the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and my bank account similar to the FEMA funds.
The family niceties are over and through, although in my Griswoldesque life, this wasn't the case. No, nary a year goes by where an argument of monumental proportions doesn't arise between someone in my immediate family. Although, this used to be tradition of my father and I, seeing as in high school or soon after I was kicked out of the house theoretically 2 Christmas Eve's in a row...but you get the idea.
NO this year's Asshole Award clearly went to my brother for sheer instigational purposes. The pompous ass.
Now mind you, my brother is "that guy" The one who has to have the last word, has to be right in every situation, even when you clearly know he'd wrong. He is a perpetual button pusher. He will find the tiniest thing that will get you going in the slightest and just harp on it until you are ready to dive across a table and throttle him. Ahh family.
So, in the month or so leading up until Christmas, my brother in all of his pompousness needed to remind his single mother sister, his sister with her rent, her car payment, with bills and debt up the wazoo, that he had gotten her a grill for her 30th birthday. Yes. A gift I appreciated. However, he negated to remind the world he had also not gotten her a gift in say the 3 or so years prior to this birthday so he now looks like a hero. He also got the grill on a ridiculous sale, otherwise he never would have bought it.
And that obviously the moral of gift giving, the "reason for the season" is not about one-upping, no. It's about the joy you can bring your loved ones. Blah, blah, blah.
So, I go back to the month leading up. He goes on and on about his stellar gift giving skills. About how much I now "owe" him a great gift since I didn't get him a birthday gift. (clearly forgetting the almost $80 dinner I took him and my mother out to for his birthday but clearly food doesn't)
Now remember, my brother lives at home. Has never paid rent in his life. Lives off of his unemployment checks and the random side work he can get from time to time and spends most of his free time smoking pot and drinking beer.
Now, after bitching and moaning for a month about what he wanted for Christmas, this specific part thing for his truck. One in which I went to 7 different stores to find, and couldn't and finally had to special order and have overnighted so he had something to open on Christmas morning, since the mere mentioning of waiting until my next paycheck to get it for him sent him on yet another rant so I essentially put my account in near negative status to shut him up and ordered it anyway, being the loving and thoughtful, selfless sister that I am. (ok and partly to shut him up)
The asshole gets me a $25 gift card to a gas station....that I don't even go to. Along with a condescending note to not let my car go below a 1/4 of a tank.
Now granted, during a by-week of paycheck on my way to a gas station a couple weeks back I ran out of gas in the cold, but that doesn't allow for the whole asshole gag-Christmas gift in front of my family to be presented and after I drove around the state of Massachusetts to shut him the hell up and make sure he got exactly what he wanted.
So then the aftermath of the holidays, ridiculous attitudes from people you don't need them from, like people who are supposed to be your best friends.
People who then turn around and accuse you of using them as a backup plan, as a fair-weather friend when you left your own family party early to make sure you could go to their family party because you promised you would. Last time I checked, a back-up friend didn't rate a visit on a major holiday, but I perhaps misread the manual.
Then again, I maybe misread the manual on best friends in general, since after 20 years of friendship I seemed to have gotten another one all wrong too, but I digress.
So in an effort to help yet another friend forget her troubles, the day after Christmas we head to my favorite watering hole. Ahh yes. Nothing says post holiday debauchery like a dive bar.
And what a weird night it was. Not only were there several of what I believe to have been cast-offs from Jersey Shore there, one of them apparently decided to fall in love with me (he told me as much) and decided that serenading me by doing Beyonce's Single Ladies dance was clearly the way to my heart. Yeah not so much.
And all this while I was sober, since in all of my motherly responsibility I was the designated driver.
But I decided having a dance battle ala Bring It On with a deaf African American guy was clearly a better alternative for me. So Step It Up I did. Naturally, I was sweating like a fat man in a sauna and I step outside, and run into a guy who somehow knew my father. I was completely dumbfounded.
I went to the Patriots game the next day and got to see them clinch the Division, although walking 986 miles from where we parked gave me a blister on the bottom of my foot the size of Puerto Rico and am now limping like I broke my foot, aside from being in extreme pain because dance battling with a deaf African American while you have a torn disc in your back is not the brightest idea I have ever had.
Needless to say, the end of 2009 has thus far been an interesting one and I can't fricking wait for this year to be over.
I’d chant Handel’s Messiah in my head, but it’s still friggan Christmas music, and Hallelujah can bite me.
Monday, December 21, 2009
4 days to go and I'm still unprepared.
My son only 5, is completely unaware
The stockings not hung by the chimney at all
I haven't attempted more stops at the mall
The tree though is lit, and drying out fast
If this weather continues I'll end up in a cast
The ice is all black, the snow to my thighs
My contacts are blurry and hurting my eyes
The cards are all sent, though presents are missing
Soon there'll be cheek pinching and relative kissing
I've run out of money, and sanity's sparse
My "holiday spirit" has all been a farce
But soon it's all over, no more to pretend
The Elf on a Shelf can go back in his pen
The tree out the door on the sidewalk for trash
And pray for overtime to make up extra cash
The fervor for months for this one day of "cheer"
For one day of indulgence, overeating and beer
You travel to see all the family at once
Who overanalyze your life, make you feel like a dunce
The unwed mother who can't hold onto a mate
Who is never on time, and who's always irate
She shows too much cleavage, her life is a mess
She lacks self control....but alas, I digress
But after this Christmas, I hope to regain
The bits of my sanity that hopefully remain
To put away each decoration back in their places
In the basement away from the damp musty spaces
So next year I hope that my merriment’s real
That I don't feel alone, and I have holiday zeal
That this Christmas is one to be swept under the rug
And that never again I will be a Humbug.
Friday, December 18, 2009
In lieu of a brilliant ranting post of my own, I am going to help educate you fella's out there with a little help from Esquire Magazine and some uber savvy famous ladies on the Do's and Don'ts on how to deal with us and the goings on in our oh-so-complex little minds.
Now granted, I may not agree or disagree with 100% of what these fabulous ladies have to say, but I found it humorous nonetheless.
1. Christina Applegate
"Call us back right away. That 'three day' business does not apply. We're getting older, and we don't have time to screw around. Wait too long and we'll lose interest. Trust me on this one."
"Guys who go to Hooters to watch the game are usually the same guys who go to lunch at strip clubs for the free chicken-fried steak. Don't be one of those guys."
2. Courtney Cox
"We pay closer attention to your hands than you think. It's bad enough if you don't have manly hands, but if your nails are longer than ours, forget it."
"Breasts are not a speed bump to the promised land."
3. Padma Lakshmi
"Some of us prefer boxing to yoga. None of us actually likes Pilates."
"Women grab their crotches, too. We just have the decency to do it in private."
4. Alyssa Milano
"Women are innately self-conscious. This is not a choice; it's a genderwide condition. On a bad day, I look in the mirror and see my ten-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Bertha. On a really bad day, Bertha sees her two-hundred-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Brian Dennehy."
"Women like porn, too. We just hate it when you hide the porn."
5. Poppy Montgomery
"When considering whether or not to ask out the girl you're afraid to talk to, keep this in mind: No matter who you are or what you look like, it's always flattering when you hit on us. Always."
6. Tea Leoni
"Supersecret: Unless we're blind or have no night-light in the bathroom, the whole toilet-seat thing is exaggerated and meant to control you."
7. Mariska Hargitay
"We love the fact that it takes you only twelve minutes to get ready for anything, be it a black tie [event] or a basketball game. When it takes longer than that... what are you doing in there?"
"We are all about our necks. Feel free to spend as much time there as you wish."
8. Emily Deschanel
"Even if we've only been dating a few weeks, don't introduce us as your 'lady friend' -- or that's exactly what we'll become."
"If you think we like the word panties, you've been watching too much porn."
"Ditto titty and moist."
9. Jenna Fischer
"If we run into your ex-girlfriend in public, the first thing you should do is put your arm around us. And if we have to introduce ourselves, you are in big trouble."
"If you can locate the following items in our home — tape, casserole dish, Christmas ornaments — you will get laid."
10. Julie Delpy
"We need you to be reachable at all times, but we don't always pick up our phones when you call. We realize this seems like a double standard; if you'd like to discuss it further, just leave a message."
"A serious scientific study has proven that women think 50 percent more than men, and 90 percent of that extra 50 percent is spent thinking about sex."
11. Maria Bello
"We're afraid of commitment, too. You may think we spend our time scheming ways to trap you into marriage, but many of us are quite happy being independent and autonomous. Besides, we're not in any rush to quit lusting after young Calvin Klein models."
"You aren't the only one who thinks that two women having sex is hot. If we haven't tried it, most of us have at least imagined what it would be like to kiss a pair of shiny red lips."
12. Kyra Sedgwick
"Our friends are not your enemies, and our enemies better not be your friends."
"When you break up with us, that means it's over, and we will only sleep with you two or three more times."
"You shouldn't pass up a three-way because you 'love us too much.'"
"No, we didn't see last week's Battlestar Galactica."
14. Sarah Silverman
"We go to the bathroom together because we're doing coke."
"We want to cuddle after sex because we're fucking freezing."
15. Kathryn Hahn
"The Brazilian bikini wax is torture. To show a little appreciation, you could trim your nose hair. And your nut sack."
"I know we're all busy, but let's avoid scheduling sex. When we start thinking about our night like, At 5:00 P.M., he's going to put it in me... Actually, that sounds kind of sexy."
16. Leslie Mann
"The concept of premenstrual syndrome was invented by a woman in Iowa who was trying to come up with a way to call her husband shit-for-brains without repercussions. Now we all benefit."
"We can tell how good you'll be in bed by how good you are on the dance floor. This isn't an invitation to grind your boners into our asses — we're looking more for rhythm, ingenuity, and joie de vivre."
"We want dessert. We want you to order dessert. What we don't want is for you to ask us if we want dessert."
"If we love you, there is nothing so filthy that you can't say it in bed."
18. Kerry Washington
"How sexy you look unbathed at a campsite first thing in the morning is as important as how sexy you look in a tux."
"Then again, looking good in a tux can turn a nice girl into a porn star."
19. Melora Hardin
"We know men think breasts are like Barstow: just a short stop on the way to Vegas. But sometimes lingering a little longer at the places along the way can make for a more pleasant trip."
"We'd much rather try on bras than see them on surgically altered, airbrushed supermodels, but we know how much you enjoy the Victoria's Secret catalog. Consider it a gift."
20. Carmen Electra
"When we say, 'I don't like to play games,' it's because we are very experienced at playing games."
"When we ask which outfit we should wear, humor us with an answer — just pick one already! — but expect us to go with the one you didn't choose."
21. Maria Bartiromo
"Otis Redding said it perfectly: Try a little tenderness."
"Even when we're blindfolded, even when you're wearing sunglasses, even in the pitch black of night, we can always tell if you just ogled another woman."
22. Jennifer Love Hewitt
"PMS is not a lame excuse to be able to yell at you. It's a great excuse."
"We're not complimented when you call your ex a slut. She dated you, too. So what are we?"
23. Parker Posey
"Often men confuse pensiveness with bitchiness, and I find that insulting!"
"Compulsive hair playing equals great, unbridled passion, but not necessarily directed toward you or toward anyone in particular. In my latest book, The Secret Language of Hair, I attempt to bridge the communication gap between hair gesture and meaning."
24. Samantha Mathis
"Asking for directions is a really big turn-on."
25. Cheryl Hines
"All women love to be referred to as 'm'lady.' As in, 'Would you like another beer, m'lady?'"
"All women like getting paid for sex."
"Everything sounds better when your mouth is next to our ear and you whisper it. Everything from 'Sorry about the smell' to 'I'm going to love you forever, m'lady.'"
26. Kim Cattrall
"Women are interested in A-list things: A designers, A vacations, A orgasms."
"Wait, let me rephrase that so there's no confusion: multiple orgasms."
27. Julia Louis-Dreyfus
"Of course we know how to work the TiVo. We're not stupid."
"No, that is not our clitoris, but please — keep trying."
"If you're funny, we will sleep with you."
28. Ashley Jensen
"When we fall asleep before the end of the film, it's because we are happy and relaxed, not because we're bored of Live Free or Die Hard."
"Want to spot a genuine blond? Count her hairs. Blonds have around 140,000 hairs, brunettes 110,000, and redheads only 90,000."
"Many blond women also have blond eyelashes. That might be easier."
29. Sanaa Lathan
"Men who wear sunglasses at night don't look cool, rich, or sexy. They look as if they should be holding a cane or following a dog."
30. SuChin Pak
"Yes, we would sleep with your best friend."
"If you won't hold our hands in public, we won't blow you in private."
31. Saira Mohan
"Eye contact should last exactly 0.28 seconds. The quickest glance is the most effective. Treat us like the sun during a solar eclipse."
"Pick the weirdest part of our body and compliment it. The left elbow, the forehead, shins. Just be creative."
32. Faith Salie
"Women don't take forever to pee. It's other chicks who make us wait. We have absolutely no idea what we're doing in there, and we look at one another in the bathroom line like, What the hell? Then, to keep ourselves occupied, we play with one another's boobs."
33. Andrea Savage
"We hate baby showers as much as you assume a sane person would."
"We don't understand your fascination with boobs, but we're happy you have it."
34. Judy Greer
"We drink till you're cute, too."
"We never fake orgasms. Okay, once in a while we do. But only for the sake of expediency."
35. Mindy Kaling
"Quit Facebook. If I'm standing next to you, and you're checking to see if you have any vampire bites from girls you went to camp with, something's wrong."
"If you defend a girl as 'really smart when you get to know her,' she is dumb. What you mean is, she's 'really smart for a smokin'-hot girl who is stupid.'"
"Women love sex tapes. Not porn — sex tapes, because scandal is titillating. If you want to trick us into watching porn, tell us the girl in it is famous and we just haven't heard of her yet."
36. Wanda Sykes
"The quickest way to a woman's heart is through her clit."
"Diamonds are forever, but touching our clit can buy you two or three years."
"The fact that women make seventy-five cents to every man's dollar won't bother us as long as you touch our clit."
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
OK, so Virginia may be aware there IS a Santa Claus, but I am thinking of shunning all things holiday and touting Jehovah's Witness beliefs just to avoid having anything further to do with continuing to feign effort this Christmas.
I mean, I am not the Holiest of rollers, let's face it whenever there is some sort of Religious function between family or friend I am pretty sure they all glance back at me waiting for me to burst into a pile of blaspheming ashes. I don't discount other's beliefs, I think the story is grand, I have belief in something, I am just....eh.
My house has been thrown up upon by askew and half assed holiday schmegma and I have zero energy to put into giving a rats ass enough to make it even slightly warm and inviting. I have my tree all done up pretty, and if you happened to stumble upon my Griswold-like encounter with that tree, I am sure you are not shocked to know I scowl at it daily and abhor even plugging in its lights because I swear it is taunting me.
The lights I attempted to put outside my lovely abode of COURSE have decided to cut out on one side. Why wouldn't they? A brand spanking set of lights should just quit working after a week don't you know.
I have this lovely village I had purchased with pride years ago, acquiring piece by piece each little tavern and home. Quaintly lit from within. Little people inside, smiling, laughing. Adorable little Victorianesque street lanterns to adorn the make-shift, snow-laden streets full of faux snow capped evergreens and frolicking animals.
Yeah they are sitting in a box.
Stockings are not hung by my chimney with care. Well, I don't actually, HAVE a chimney, but they are not hung anywhere. They too are still in store boxes in my kitchen, waiting for me to pull them out and be hung, wanting to be cozied up and lit up warmly by the tree that is taunting me and hoping to be filled with goodies on Christmas Eve.
At this point the ultimate stocking stuffer is going to be a severed foot.
I have done my duties. I have done my minimalist shopping with no money. I have written out Christmas cards I have yet to send. Posed cheesily with my son for our yearly holiday photo shoot.
I am just not here.
SO now looms away 10 days until the big day, 9 if you take it as Christmas Eve, the night I will stay up all night watching a Christmas Story for 24 hours, waiting until the very last minute to wrap every gift because I struggle. Cutting my pointer finger to shreds on the stupid teeth of the scotch tape dispenser.
I have even tried to get into the spirit with charities, which I am huge on anyway, but even though it felt amazing to do, it wasn't Christmassy enough. I took part in Wreaths Across America and laid a wreath on the grave of every fallen soldier from every war from the American Revolution to the War in Iraq in the cemeteries in my hometown to make sure the soldiers who lost their freedoms fighting for our country were not forgotten this holiday season. It was an amazing tribute, and an honor. I brought my son, and they even let me take an extra wreath to the grave of a fallen officer and friend in another town.
And yet, the Christmas Spirit still alludes me.
Someone needs to spike my eggnog or something because I would like to snap out of this funk and have myself a Merry Frickin Christmas.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
So I did it. I jumped on the holiday bandwagon and got some stuff accomplished.
Ok, actually that is a bold faced lie.
I have half-assed and ghetto-ly attempted to get into the spirit for the sake of my 5 year old and am failing miserably.
I got a tree, a mammoth of a tree as a matter of fact. However naturally in the matter of all things pertaining to my life, I reinjured my spine last Thursday so attempting to decorate said tree has been a slow-motion Griswold moment waiting to happen.
I enlisted my brother to help with the tree purchase, since like all men who live at home with their mother's he owns a very large truck to over-compensate and that would clearly work better than latching a large deciduous Fir to the top of a Ford Focus.
I also only get tree's from charitable associations. However, I was scalped this year by the one I seemed to find in my new town. Apparently the profits of this non-profit go to the Music Department of the school system, and likely jumping on the coattails of Glee, they felt that gouging the public for something you could easily get free in nature had I a chainsaw was a wise idea. I digress.
So tree in truck bed and wallet thinned greatly, we make our way back to my house, which I may add in my crippled state I had also decided to decorate with lights....held up with push-pins. I told you, half assed.
Naturally in all of my OCDness, the tree I just had to have was uber symmetrical. Practically perfect in every way (thank you Mary Poppins) and it was a lovely choice if I do say so myself. We were at the tree lot being stalked by an Emo boy of the musical persuasion to Sell! Sell! Sell! for maybe 10 minutes, tops.
Now mind you, my previous address I lived in a basement, a dungeon if you will with very low ceilings, so naturally I tended to look at smaller statured trees. Of course, my brother reminds me in my bigger, better home I now have 10 foot ceilings and a 6 foot tree would be dwarf-like and not fit the space, so naturally we aim for 8 1/2 9 feet. A full bodied tree.
Good in theory.
I had a vision in mind, getting the tree home, putting it in the back corner of my living room, between my office and my living room. Being able to sit comfortably on either couch and watch holiday specials curled up in the lighted ambiance of the glow of the lights, all awash in the smell of Balsam and holiday cheer.
First the tree doesn't fit through the door without coming through it battering ram style, showering needles willy nilly all over the damn place to which I will likely be finding until next July. Next step is bringing over to my coveted imagined spot. Yes. Tree of wonder is much, much larger in real life and in my living room than it clearly was outdoors surrounded by other trees and blocks entire office to nonfunctionality.
All furniture is now moved out of my living room. Bookshelves moved from one room to another, couches shifted from their coveted spots of comfort and critical TV watching splendor to new walls to accommodate the Paul Bunyan of trees I had to get.
Amidst the fervor of all this as time ticks on, I of course realize being the stellar parent that I am, I should perhaps feed my child. So I beg my brother to allow me to run to the store at the top of the street for beverages and I would be back to heat up pizza. All would not be lost.
In true Griswold fashion, I grab my keys and wallet and head out the door and then slip on ice that has mystically and suddenly formed on my 2 steps to my walkway and I wrench my knee, strain my back again I am sure and am in the driveway screaming in pain. My brother, gallant as he is, opens the door and asks "What the heck did you do?" To which I explain, and to which he laughs at me. Nice. I then hobble over to my landlord who lives next door and beg for some sort of salt solution for the steps so I do not die upon ascension when I return from the store.
Finally, we get the tree into a corner and my brother leaves. His attempts at heavy lifting have clearly been over and above anything he had signed up for and despite making his nephew thrilled to have him there, he is thus abandoning his poor crippled(ok severely injured and irritated) sister alone to fight with the tree.
So broken in spirit and in body, my child giddy with anticipation about the stupid tree is so eager to help and wants to immediately throw every decoration on it. RIGHT NOW!
After tantrum ends while explaining I have to put the lights on first and that being 5 he is not allowed to handle electricity and thanking ABC Family for playing back-to-back Christmas specials on TV all night, I get started on the lights in true Bob Rivers fashion.
I put the lights on and took them off 4 times before I was able to get them on the goddamn tree. First I started at the top, naturally thinking that working my way from the most difficult part and working down to easy would be the smart way. SO there I was, straddling couch and side table, holding on to the ceiling beams for dear life and having visions of myself falling into the tree and out the window as I ever so gracefully wound the lights around the tree.
Now mind you, I had 5 sets rigged together, should have been more than enough to reach the bottom. Yeah not so much. Grumbling I took them off and started from the bottom this time, thinking that maybe I would reach the top THAT way. Again, getting halfway.
At this point I was having visions not of Sugarplums, but of taking the tree outside and lighting it on fire...
Finally after 2 more attempts and nearing 10pm, lights were on sufficiently enough for me to stop giving a rats ass. (Granted we started this process at around 6pm) So then, all a flutter with lighted glory, my child who should have been in bed 2 hours prior wanted to decorate the tree RIGHT NOW!
Patience is now gone, the Elf on a Shelf is gawking at me creepily and I have had enough. Nope. Sorry buddy. Off to bed, we will do it tomorrow. If we do it at all. At this point I am ready to cancel Christmas altogether because Dylan throws himself on the floor screams kicks and cries, and of course I have to remind him of the creepy Elf watching waiting to tell Santa of his horrid behavior.
My living room looks like an ornament store threw up in it and I have still no motivation to have anything more to do with this evil tree.
Anyone have a match?
Sunday, December 6, 2009
I am usually in an Elfin state of Holiday Glee about now. Trimming my tree would have been a fond memory and I would be sitting back enjoying the Enchanted Village that would have become my humble abode likely the day after Thanksgiving.
I would have already begun navigating the many sales and writing lists upon lists, having my holiday cards already signed sealed and delivered well on their merry way across the globe waiting to be anxiously opened and displayed with the rest.
SO what about this year has me awash in Humbuggery?
Last year I had not much to celebrate. My son had been through the most traumatic thing a child can experience and essentially lost his father right before the holidays, I had been laid off fro my job the day before Thanksgiving and had no income to get me through the holidays, and yet I was all for it. I went for broke, no pun intended.
And now, back a member of the working force, life seemingly normal and relatively uneventful, I find myself lacking any motivation to get into the holiday spirit.
Is it due to the fact that up until yesterday it has been 60 degrees in Boston, making the season seem like mere make believe? Like a joke by Mother Nature conjured up to bring on only talk of Global Warming and nothing of those White Christmases?
Is it due to the fact that for some strange reason high school drama seems to rear its ugly head in matters that never cease to amaze me and I have seemingly lost my two best friends to it?
Is it the fact that last year was in a relationship and now I am not? (or the fact that I just found out that same person is now engaged to someone else?)
Is it again due to the realization that nothing and no holiday is ever the same without my father?
I can't exactly pinpoint the cause of this anti-holiday funk. I have started to shop willy-nilly, but not with the fervor and pinash that I usually do. I have started to subtly put out a decoration or two, even light a tree smelling candle in the hopes it will trigger something deep within my psyche, snap me out of whatever walking coma I seem to be in.
I get oogats. My father's favorite Italian word for nothing. Zilch. Nien. Niet. Not a single warm fuzzy running through my veins giving me any sense that today, Christmas is a mere 18 days away.
Maybe its time I get run over by a reindeer.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
People would rather pretend things never happened than actually talk about anything real.
No one wants to resolve issues, they want to forget about them. Quietly sweep them under the rug until they are hopefully no longer on remembered. People are essentially pathetic.
They want to live in their fake existences feigning happiness while inside they are festering and seething and then wonder why everything in their lives is so shallow and faithless. Nothing is sincere, nothing is concrete.
Their friendships consist of safe topical conversations, nothing that could be considered deep or heaven forbid emotional. It's too stressful and too real for anyone to handle, so they pretend it’s all ok. And then wonder when their worlds explode why no one is there to catch them. Idiots.
These people who evade sincerity. Who react to every day stresses and outbursts as the dramatic rantings of the emotionally unstable. But who really are the unstable ones? Those who cathartically emote their problems? The ones who bring their hopes, dreams, fears and angers full front to the table or the ones who closet it inside, holding it and storing it until it can no longer be held in and it bursts upon them like a child's hidden treasures after their room cleaning tumbling in an avalanche.
Those people who would rather settle for mediocrity than strive to make things better in their lives. So that road is paved with hardship and bitterness. So its long and its hard, but that would only make that final outcome so much the sweeter. Instead they become lazy in their endeavors and succumb to passivity and give up on their dreams in both life and moreover in love.
Then, in their callous view they judge you. You who voice what you feel, who wear your heart on your sleeve and leave your life an open book. Sure you have known shame and humility, nothing has been easy and nothing for sure is going to be, but it is your journey, the people in it along the way helping and hindering each and every milestone you surpass.
This judgment comes from jealousy. Those mundane manipulators trying to bring you to their level of mediocrity. Their life may be better on paper sure, but they are lacking in spirit. Their drive is gone, their tenacity vacant. Who says you have to give up on impish dreams and quests in adulthood? Who says you have to settle for anything?
I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever fall short of the ideals I set for myself again. I will never let them beat me down again, never let their festering focus and fear of the unknown hinder my hope of finding what I know is out there waiting for me if I hold true to what I believe in. So what if it's not tomorrow, so what if it’s not easy to find. I will appreciate it ever more once I do for all I have had to overcome. And I will not be living a lie.
So you can keep your broom and keep sweeping, I'll be walking over the rug thank you very much.