It wasn’t the best of Christmases, it wasn’t the worst of Christmases.
… to spin from the famous opening sentence in the Dickens’ novel.
It was OK. There was a handful of highlights. There was baaaaaad behavior. Not related to family but the public. (see prior Starbucks post!)
Lemme ask: Does anyone really LOVE Christmas?!
I know such people exist. I’ve met ’em. My boss at one of my jobs is one. I marvel at their love of Christmas as I might an Olympic runner. “Amazing feats. Amazing athlete. But that’ll never be me. Never can be.”
Halloween, that’s my holiday.
Anyways, Christmas 2016 is past. I’m glad. I survived. Endured. What especially differentiated this one from most is that I wasn’t at some really shitty job that I hate. Any holiday, nee any DAY where I’m not so engaged, well, it’s a good day.
So attention turns now to New Year’s. In Japan, a much much more celebrated holiday than Christmas. You can take the girl outta Japan but you can’t take Japan outta the girl.
As usual, I have no plans. It sucks. It means I have no friends to call. No intimate get-togethers with one or close circle of 4-6. Means while life’s better than in the past, I’m still a long long long long long long long ways from the life I’d envisioned or would want for myself. Let’s get real: need.
I was at Costco the other day. Commented to one of the food-demo gals or possibly a passing customer: “There is a Santa. But there is no God.”
The words just spilled out of my mouth, as they oft do. Taking me by surprise, not in content but articulate expression.
I DO believe in Santa.
And I do and I don’t believe in God.
It’s complicated. I believe in part that there’s a God. But he’s not a loving or good God. Evidence abounds. Plus I have personal proof.
I hesitate to outright say I believe in God but he’s bad. I’d say vengeful and bad in the sense of not-good.
Anyways, ’tis the season of reflecting on big matters and the big man upstairs.
Thinking ahead, I need life to be better to me than it’s been. I need more from life than I’ve gotten or received. 2017 is an especially significant one for various reasons. I can’t have my decade in my 60s — 60th birthday in March! — as a repeat, rather, continuation, of my 50s. Or 40s. Two decades to “wipe off the proverbial personal map.”
Thing is, how do I get what I want. When what I want does not exist. Does not exist in this town (or most).
Fuck.
So much for any lingering good cheer of Christmas! 😀 😀
Best shut up before this takes on a rambling quality and let this post just traaaaailllllll offfffffff ………
Btw, about that headline. Every year I receive one present: homemade cookies from my son. So I ask: Without a gift to exchange or return — aka the National Pasttime of millionS of Americans beginning today — can it really be called Christmas?!?
I think not.
And I think so.
Allelujah, Arizona! 