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Thursday, January 6, 2011

christmas journal #5

Christmas music. 

You'd think I'd adore Christmas music. I Iove Christmas, I love music. But together? It can create some pretty horrible songs. 

Don't get me wrong, some Christmas songs are awesome. And sometimes I listen to Christmas albums in June, just because I love them that much. But tuning into radio stations all through the month of December, all you can hear are the haunting melodies of overplayed Christmas songs. I probably heard at least 12 arrangements of Santa Baby and Last Christmas this holiday season, and if I have to hear I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas one more time, I might pull my own hair out. That song. That stupid, whiney, annoying, pitiful song. I hate that song. There is nothing joyful or pretty or remotely positive about it. 

So in conclusion: Christmas songs are good. Overplayed ones are bad. And I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas should never see the light of day again. Ever.    

christmas journal #4

Happiness in a mug
Oh, what a wonderful thing
Terribly delicious. 

Comforting and sweet,
Heat rising through the air
One part milk, eight parts chocolate 
Cocoa dumped in by the gallon
One minute in the microwave
Lookin' good. Really good. 
A whiff of the stuff is bliss. 
Tastes like the holidays. 

christmas journal #3

There's something about the Christmas tree. The tree, for my family, is probably the most important tradition. We have a fake tree. We love our fake tree. It's big and green and it doesn't smell bad like real trees do. And it has some awesome strategically placed pine cones. The golden lights are attached to it, because my family is simply too low-maintenance for stringing lights onto trees.

Every year, we pull out the ornaments and put them on the tree. This is my favorite part of the holiday season, the ornaments. There's no special order; just wherever we think the ornament fits. It usually ends up being an overly crammed, spastic looking tree. It literally comes out different every year.

Excuse me for being obnoxiously cliche, but it really reflects the year, that tree. Every year it's like it says something different about us, as a family. I know, I know. It's a plastic tree. It doesn't talk. But seriously, it's almost like every year, it says where we are at that point. This year, it was filled, crammed, busy. As we were. It still looked kind of sad. Like we were. But the golden lights brought everything back together. A glint of hope. We have that. Okay, I'm done with the tree/family analogy now. It's stupid. But really, really, freakishly true.

christmas journal #2

Christmas is everything opposite.

Christmas is warm.
It's time with family and friends.
It's giving. It's receiving.
It's beautiful, sparkling snow.
It's hot chocolate and candy canes.
It's beautiful.

Christmas is cold.
It's feeling lonely.
It's getting what you want, but not what you need.
It's gray skies and dreary days.
It's being overly lazy.
It's depressing.

Christmas is everything opposite.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

christmas journal #1

It's Christmas day, and I have sold my soul to the presents. I don't know when this happened, or how, but suddenly the possessions received became the most important thing. I went crazy.

There was something I didn't want. Maybe I needed it, but I was just so against getting it. I told my mother this, expressly. And that thing? Was exactly what I got on Christmas morning. And... yeah. I went crazy. On Christmas morning. Who does that? Apparently, I do. I think I'm secretly five years old. Ugh, embarrassing.

I got over myself, though. On Christmas day. Because I sort of killed Christmas morning with my ridiculous mood.

I know it was my fault, my fault that I went item-crazy. But did the surrounding atmosphere influence me at all? You see a huge number of people in malls, buying obligatory gifts for others. Is that what Christmas has become, a obligation? Centered around presents? If that's the case... I'm worried.