Everything

I’ll admit that I’ve been lazy, abandoning my little storylines of nonsense, philosophy and philanthropy for carefree and empty thinking. Blank days pass and I’m no where to be found. I’m a captive in my own little world dancing around my dreams and singing melodies in winter’s favorite colors. Life, as cold and lonely as it is right now, is beautiful.

The dark cloud of Christmas has passed and unlike previous years, it has not left my heart is a shambled heap. I found little things to keep the smile bright upon my face melting away the ice like a Care Bear stare. The pixels on a screen as I explore a world of make-believe, singing into a microphone earning five stars in my own rock band, sweet smell of blueberry tea, old black and white photographs zoomed into microscopic detail in Photoshop, 30 days of clarity, my fingerprints on ivory and ebony keys, laughter from watching my cat unwrap his presents, friendships rekindled that never really needed to be relit and the late nights spent getting lost in the sound of that sweet voice in which I’ve grown so accustomed.

Forget the pain; I have so much more to be thankful for this year. There are only 6 days left in 2007 and I intend to cherish each one like a holiday. Every day I have with beauty, peace, friendship, hope and love…IS…a holiday.

Happy Everything People!

Fa~La~La~La...Die

Torture begins.

My eardrums tingle in anticipation of the pure pain I will experience with each off-key rendition of "O Christmas Tree". The agony of ravaging adults and children tearing apart aisles after some pathetic "toy-of-the-season" manufactured with toxic materials and exported from China. Meaningless Christmas greetings sent by people I only talk to once a year via these recycled cardboard wastes of postage. The bell ringers, please make them stop. I’m surrounded by sweets and more fattening savory bits of goodness putting mass on my thighs just by looking their very direction. Television plagued with specials and previews for yet again another Tim Allen travesty. Then the worst, a smelly balding man with a pure lack of fashion sense and a obvious problem with obesity gets to take credit for gifts that I, not him, so painstakingly braved shopping malls and traffic to purchase.

Call me the Grinch, Scrooge or sacrilegious but I loathe Christmas.

Note to Self: Find country that does not celebrate it and vacation there conveniently for the entire month of December.