Christmas Dreams

I dream of Christmas Past,
in all its frustating glory -
the tree to be trimmed
the presents to be wrapped
the cookies to be baked
the food to be cooked
the house to be cleaned
the mantle to be decorated.
I dream of these things in swirls,
the busyness and frantic pace
of a household with Christmas
and a silver disco ball.
I dream the dreams of a child,
of pink ponies and gift wrap,
and the serene moments of joy.
I dream of the snow and the cold
and of hot chocolate by the fire.
I dream of the food and festivites,
loud, cacaphenous laughter billowing
throughout the house.
I dream of perfectly placed ornaments
and of perfectly wrapped presents
perfectly placed 'neath the tree.
I dream of lucious cookies
coated with sugar and comfort,
baked frenzied and with uncertainty.
But most of all, of which I dream,
the hardest lesson now learned,
is that you are there to hug,
to talk to in a quiet moment,
even if you were my annoying mother.

The Baby Jesus Wails

Santa: First Strike!

COMING THIS CHRISTMAS:  It's been a long, hard summer as the elves toil mercilessly under the benevolent fist of Old Man Santa.  As winter sets in, so do the looming 20 hour days and cold, harsh air.  The underlying hostility of years past takes a stunning and dramatic turn this year when Santa begins to outsource his more lucrative jobs in order to fill some dubious "nice" orders.  The elves grow increasingly agitated and talk of unionizing permiates the workshop.  Santa, on the other hand, has some ideas of his own....

You don't want to miss this action-packed movie from the North Pole!!  Starring Jack Nicholson as Santa, Samuel L. Jackson as Inspector Elf #39, and Danny Devito as Eddie Elf, Julianna Moore as Mrs. Claus, with appearances by Christopher Walken, Robin Williams, and Conan O'Brien.

(I must say, God Bless Texas.  And I really don't want to know if you can buy that here in Wisconsin.)

Dear Airport Voice,

If you don't want me to make inappropriate jokes, don't remind me that I shouldn't make them every ten minutes. Do you know why? Because five immediately pop into my head when you do that.

Also, we don't need to hear that the nondenominational chapel in the airport is open 24-7, or at least not like it's an important announcement. (Ah, Texas!)

Thanks,
Your Friendly Airtraveler

Why I need a vacation.

I'm afraid of what's coming and how this is going to happen.

Mr. Asshat has not found a job yet. He will most likely end up on the streets. He will also probably loose what little he has - a bed, bookcase, desk, dresser, clothing, books, computer. I want to help him, but I can't, and I know I can't. I can support myself on my income, and have money left over to do things I enjoy. I can't support two people, and really, in case anyone is wondering, I'm not about to. I live in terror that he's going to ask me to house him, because I will have to say no. He can't pay rent, and he'd have to fill out a lease if he stays with me...and since he can't pay rent, that's not going to happen, nor will I risk being evicted or kicked out for keeping a person at my apartment without the office's notice. I can't afford to move again, and worse, if it's because of him, I highly doubt that my aunt and my dad would help. So for seven hundred thousand reasons, the biggest one being that I just don't want him to live with me, the answer will have to be no.

I do not want to be asked, because I do not want to have to answer.

But how fucking nice, eh? Mr. Nonconfrontational gets mad if he has to deal with people he doesn't know doing things that they're not supposed to, might ask me something that I will have to be confrontational about. I wish that I had the ability to arrange my life so that I had as little confrontation as possible. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who never tells me when he's mad, when he is mad, and instead festers and simmers until it blows up into a really big confrontation, and that really, really drives me insane. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who asks, "What is wrong with me?" but really means it as a rhetorical question, and if you attempt to answer it, will get mad at you, because, I suppose, you weren't suppose to notice that there is something wrong with him. Never mind trying, in an adult manner like adults should do, discussing problems and disagreements, and trying to work your way through it.

Remember, Mr. Asshat, that conversation in the bar just after we broke up? Why It Was Good For You vs. Why It Was Good For Me? You had one reason. I probably would have thought and listed more, but after an hour and a half, I got kinda tired of talking about it. And you don't see where I would have been bitter and resentful for all those reasons - I lost count of the number - and that would feed into your One Big Reason? If you had treated me better and like a human being instead of a peon, that that One Big Reason wouldn't have been a reason at all? And why on earth, when you can fucking do calculous for fun, can you not get this, after how many fucking times of telling you this? Oh, maybe this will help:

Belittlingme(Ignoringme)(Kickedintheleg²)
------------------------------------------ = |Bitter(Resentment)|²
(Entitlementtomymoney)

Would that help? I could give you the values of each. You might need to use your calculator, though, because the numbers are pretty big.

But as resentful as I am, I do feel sorry for him and I do care. I really don't want him to think that denying him a place to live is connected to those feelings, because it's not. It's not the years wasted on a fool; it's the self-preservation. This is not a responsibility that I can take on, even if I wanted to take it on. In some ways, that makes me more logical than he is. I just can't do it, and that's the simple truth. But I know in my heart what he's probably going to think about it, because I've heard him say things too many times to know that he's going to think I'm doing this out of spite, when, for the love of God, I'm not. And I know from experience that he won't listen to what I'm saying. If I made a few hundred thousand dollars a year, I'd take in all of my favorite jobless friends, rent-free, until they find a job (I would, for the record, also have a pony and a large house on Lake Drive). But as it stands, I can't even take in one jobless friend.

I guess really what this is about, is that I'm probably going to lose a friend over something that I have no ability to control, and he will probably blame it on me. And stubborn me, I refuse to take the blame for something that is clearly not my fault. If it were my fault, I'd accept the blame for it. The thing is, he has to assign blame to everything, so if it's not my fault, then it's his. After he's out on the streets, how long will he last? Will his health get the best of him or his mind? Or will he commit suicide, which I think is rather likely?

Lord, I know ask too much, but really, just drop a fucking job in his lap? Oh, wait, who am I kidding? He probably wouldn't know it....

*Sigh*

Now, not only do I need a vacation, I need a drink.

So I was in WalMart buying stuff to organize with, when I came upon the most horrificly tacky splendor EVER.  In fact, I was so in awe of this abomination, that I stood in the aise shaking my head and muttering to myself, basking in its full and awful tacky glory.  If you have a sensitive stomach, I do not recommend looking further, as this is not for the faint of heart:

Yes, folks, that is the 6-foot inflatable snowglobe with a motor to blow the snow pellets on the characters.  But then, something else caught my eye.  OH. MY. GOD.  There was something EVEN TACKIER featured right next to it!

For $139.96, you too can sell your soul to Satan and make the baby Jesus cry!  Why, yes, Virginia, there is such a thing as a 8-foot Rotating Carousel Christmas Airblown Inflatable!  And I do suggest that you go see it in the store.  You really can't grasp the true horror of this unwieldy lawn orniment until you actally see it in action.

On the upside of this terrible discovery, I have now altered my plans of sightseeing the Worst Displays of Christmas to include a quest to find the tacky, heartless soul who puts these hideous mannifestations of the pagan holiday on their front lawn. Thank God I took the Friday before Christmas off of work!

Hiding in the Shadows

I want a space where only the random stranger can see me. So it's off to myspace for everyone else, and just me here. Which is what I want. Sometimes, I want to be alone. Alone in the distance, away from the crowd, to stand back and enjoy a cacophonously serene moment, before I plunge back into the crowd. Like a moment of Zen at a crowded, noisy bar. To live in the spaces of others, in the cracks, unknown, unloved and alone. To be seen and unseen, observe the world from within, because I see myself in their eyes, shades of being and feeling. My reflections from afar, unweary and unknowing, still clinging to the ever-dwindling supply of the commdity hope. But yet, take heart, for all that is needed is but an ounce, a modest amount, you will agree.

Alone in the Night.

[Help Desk Dude]: So what's your problem?

[Me]: Well, I just got a new computer, and one of the programs isn't working.

[HDD]: Which one?

[Me]: Well, the [Really Important Program]. I need it to perform my main job function.

[HDD]: (clicking in background) Ah, I see. Ok, we'll need to reinstall it.

[A few moments of clickity-clack and setting up NetMeeting so that he can control my computer.]

[HDD]: Well, let's try installing [RIP], since it failed the first time. (clicks on program)

[Several minutes later...]

[HDD]: Wow, that's taking a long time.

[Me]: Yeah. I also don't know if you have to install something else first, or what.

[HDD]: Huh. [Noises in background.] Wow, it just got pitch black here.

[Background Voices]: "Whoa! It's dark out there!" "Isn't there some kind of warning?" "I think we should be moving to the second floor or something...aren't we supposed to?" "So where do we go?" "Well, isn't it supposed to get darker earlier this time of year?" (Pitch black. In August. At 6 pm. In Minnesota.)

[Me]: What's going on up there?

[HDD]: It got really dark all of a sudden. There's been warnings and stuff all day.

[Me]: You know, if you have to suddenly leave, that's okay....

[HDD]: Nah, there's just been warnings.

[Me]: Well, really, if you have to go...you can go.

[HDD]: [More clickity-clack.] I think I'm going to stop this program and try reinstalling the other [RIP].

"Hi! My name is Ace Hat, and I'm a successful business owner. You don't know me, but I'm sure that you know many people like me. After high school, I didn't see much point in going to college. I thought that I could find a job that paid well. Boy, was I wrong. After a few years of working menial jobs for low pay, I wanted to expand my horizons and earn a degree that would brighten my future. I searched high and low for a quality and inexpensive business degree program that would further my goals. I looked at the University, but there seemed to be too many hurdles to get through. I looked at online courses but that, too, seemed very impersonal as well as the school-by-mail programs that third-tier celebrities hawk on infomercials. No, I wanted a personally enriching school experience. That's when I found the Acadamy of Carmel Covered Popcorn. Their classes were just the right size and had a learning environment that I enjoyed. So if you -- or someone you know -- is looking to make a career change, call the Acadamy of Carmel Covered Popcorn today!"

****************

"Some people ask me, 'Chet, how did you get so successful?' Well, I like to tell them it was hard work and preserverence that got me where I am today. The real truth is that to be this successful, I have a degree from one of the finest education institutions that there is. Ivy League? No, too stuffy. University? No, too crowded. So where did I recieve quality education and endless opportunities? At the 1000 Monkeys Typing Business School. 'Where?' you may ask. Well, the 1000 Monkeys Typing Business School is a little-known school that has a long tradition of outstanding success. Many graduates make six figures or more within the first year of graduation! Why haven't you heard of the 1000 Monkeys Typing Business School before? Well, because they adhere to strict admissions stanards, allowing in only the best and brightest. Why don't you visit one of the many locations today? Your future is waiting."

***************

"Are you tired of working for peanuts? Is the passive-agressive monster that is your boss getting under your skin? Do you wish that you could make way more money than the Jonses next door? Well, we've got just the program for you! At the Snakes on a Plane Management School, you will recieve a quality education at an exceptionally reduced price. Many of our graduates land top and high paying jobs within six months of graduation. With our business program, you can increase your earning potential in just two years! Be your boss's boss and live in comfort! We also have an extensive Information Techologies program, too. Call today and fire your boss!"

Poem.

For there you are,
hurt, lonely, sad
crying in the night,
reaching to the stars,
for a rescue, a hope, a dream
something worth redeeming.
A whistful demon stands nearby,
a creature who knows torment,
who can smell and hear it,
eminating in waves outward
from your lonely spot in the street.
Demon is helpless to help,
but It sympathetically cries with you,
It wants to help you so ever badly,
wishing It were Angel, not Demon,
so that It could scoop you up in Its arms,
to hold and comfort you,
to smile light and feed you,
to care for you and set you free.
But, alas, the Demon knows
that It will never, ever have
that kind of power to squander
for if It does find it, Demon will use it first,
and It knows that such is the reality of things.
So Demon turns away in lament,
for both you and It, useless as ever,
and hopes that one day you get what you want.

Dear Jim Davis,

Thank you for giving poor Jon a girlfriend! You don't know how disappointed I've been in the last five years of reading Garfield that he hasn't had one. I certainly didn't expect Liz the Vet to go out with him, but that's a nice touch. Please don't end it next week with a "ha-ha fooled you!" kinda thing, because that would be wrong, and I don't know if I could bear to read Garfield after that. It's been funny to read his attempts at dating, but at some point, it starts to get painful to read about his constant failure. And I would think there's still Comedy Gold even if he has a girlfriend. I certainly don't expect Garfield to be totally happy with it.

But again, thank you.

Sincerely,
A Long Time Garfield Reader

Less Strange Now

So then I was outside having a cigarette again. And I saw The Person Who Looked Like My Mother. She was walking to her car. Standing up, does not look like my mother, except in the face a little. My mind is now at ease.

What I am

Invisible, to men at the bar, at Mad Planet, at any venue. I'm invisible to the guy I like...who tried to convince me he's crazy, but he isn't, in any sense. Addictive does not equal crazy, it's its own world, but understandable. Crazy at 16? Who the fuck isn't? I know I was...and turned a pedophile away from me...which was okay.

But I'm invisible. Kiss you? Oh, only if there isn't anyone else attractive. Or I'll Kiss When I Am Toasted Off My Ass. THAT makes me feel better. You, toasted off your ass, or Dumbass, because he's too socially inept to talk to actual women. In fact, invisibility seems great....

Invisibility versus stupidity. Great. No choices other than that, because I have to be greatful to what the "beautiful people" throw to me for leftovers....

And the guys just don't see that. That they are the leftovers of the gorgous women, and nevermind the dyke in the corner who can spot the female in men a mile away....and think that it's damn sexxy. Damn them to hell -- they deserve the tourturous ruin they get.

Tiki, Tiki on the wall,
tell me who's dearest of them all.
And as I sit and ponder gods
not of my own religion,
whose gods really reign
loved, unloved or unforgiven?
White and stubborn, unloving,
or mellow yellow, and magical,
or black, dark and mysterious,
or are all gods just the same?
I tend to hedge my bets,
believing in all of them,
so that, sinner I,
can have at least one path
to redemption.
For why should I place all bets,
with one who's monolith,
more than one god would ensure,
at least some forgivess.
But Tiki God of Old,
I pray to thee, with proper tithe:
shot of tequila, glass of beer,
and wonder what I'm doing here.
No love lost or gained
but many faces I could name.
So I will drink up
and wait for the other cup,
one whch will hold me up,
and as I laugh, so will I cry.
The day that goes by,
and for a while I feel loved.
Which makes Tiki worship better,
than what I think I could be,
but I'm not going to place
myself in the One Holy.
So a different shot I consume,
to some other god.
And when I leave the bar,
I muse, such lovely clouds,
whoever you are.

Strange Things.

So I was walking out of work last night, lighting up a cigarette, when I noticed a car parked on the street. Not too remarkable, since cars usually park there. There was a person in it. And for a moment, I thought it was my mother. So much so, that I amlost yelled out "Mom" to the person in the car, thinking she was visiting me at work. And then the little voice in my head stopped me, Uh, it can't be Mom. You know that. So I took another glace which threatened to be a stare. Why? Because even on second glance, it looked like my mother. The glasses. The hair. The clothes. The face. I just calmly walked across the street then, choking back tears and listening to my coworker babble about the poker game on his phone. But person still looked like my mom. And then she drove off. I know that it wasn't her, but still...that person could have been a dead ringer for her.

Needless to say, I was freaked out by this.

The Day

You always wanted me
to talk about myself
and I asked you questions
that you forgot I asked.
But now,
now that I'm not interested,
my caring beaten out of me,
and the spark has waned,
you feel you have talk.
What is it about you
that you cannot, refuse to see
what matters to me?
Don't try to play off
that you're nice or something,
because you've never showed it to me.
Sure you do nice things,
but you don't do them for me,
and that is all I really wanted...
those idle questions answered,
and a little bit of listening.

Wow.

"He's 37, lives with his mother, has never been on a date, thinks that running screaming after a stranger and "posing" for her is an acceptable come-on, and tells her that he loves her more than her "husbands and boyfriends." He doesn't just have a red flag waving over him. He's preceded by an entire corps of drum majorettes waving double-ended red flags to the tune of a red-clad marching band from Stalkersdale High School, Stalker County, Stalkerania--

AND PEOPLE ARE DEFENDING HIM?

WTF?"

Best comment about that situation. I would move promptly, if that were me.

Crossroads.

There but to stand at Crossroads of Eternity,
to smile upon known unknown,
vast swaths of certain uncertainy.
Might I stand nobly before these roads,
but for a moment, to take in solemn dignity,
a thought of what path has led me here -
the tribluations, the waxing and waning
of years gone by swiftly, gently.
And as I turn to once more study
that which lies so quietly behind me,
I see rows and fields of knowledge,
carefully sowed and reaped.
But as any dutiful entreprenuer,
I look ahead to the vast land before me,
waiting to be sowed and reaped;
for in this fallow ground here
is where the mystery lies, waiting deep.
I will go on ahead, tools at the ready,
and wander through Eternity.
And maybe when I get there,
when I lay fast asleep among memory,
those weary travelers who tread carefully,
will stop at these crossroads
to admire the beauty and mystery;
and encouraged by what was planted before,
they will seek to plant anew the knowledge
at the Crossroads of Eternity.

Remembrance

So wierd it was, this day, a day so very hoped for, longed for, wanted. She was standing next to her father, holding onto his arm. "Are you ready?" he asked. She chuckled, and in her characteristic fashion said, "Well, does it matter? It's a little late to back away NOW." She was, of course, nervous, as all brides tend to be. When she was little, "Princess" was cool, but now? She was wearing the "Princess" garb, and well, it just seemed waaay too formal for marrying him. Which is why she liked him.

And so the music started. And being Catholic, it was a wedding Mass. Sit, kneel (when did that come back?) and stand, not necessarily in that order or number. And at the end of the ceremony, where they turned, arm in arm, to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, she saw her.

There, at the back of church, was an older but young looking woman, wearing a dazzling blue dress -- electric blue, and at the cuffs of the sleeves and bottom of the dress was blue sequins -- blue shoes that had been dyed to match the dress, and sparkley jewlery. She wore makeup, a polished look that was well done. She had tissues, and kept dabbing her eyes, proud that her little girl was getting married.

The Bride gasped and dragged her new husband down the aisle, wanting to run to her but not wanting to ruin the moment. It seemed like the woman was drifting farther away and the Bride hurried to catch up with her.

When she got to the last pew in the church, the woman had vanished. Unable to control herself, the Bride screamed, "I saw her! She was right here! Mom was right here!" As her chin wavered and her eyes threatened tears, someone said to her, "I know. I saw her too."

An old aunt asked, "You saw Kathie?"

And then I woke up. Dreams are weird.

She was also wearing the blue dress that she liked and looked good in, with the blue shoes. Like she had worn for both my brothers' weddings. It was a very odd dream.

Horrible Food and Other Stuff.

I was surfing around the net at Cockeyed.com, reading about food adventures and experiments, when I came across this website. Hehe. So if you get bored, just sit on your ass and read the fascinating crazy things people do.

Or, you could read the touching story of a telephone booth in the middle of nowhere. (From Duceofclubs.com.)

A funny from Americablog.

Huh.

Earthquake History of Wisconsin. Interesting.

undestiny

In winds that whistle
through life divine
where that I be here
when the winds shine
but all that is left
when I arrive
is the sullen moonlight -
much to my delight.
In past times I've stumbled
and cursed the darkness
in which I've tumbled.
But now I see
with aided sight
just where I belong in the
sullen moonlight.
No sooner than it occurred to me
that daylight was not destiny
and that bright stars shine
not for me,
that tunnel light
was futility.
So one can walk
down sullen corridors
without hesitation
and without scars.
So there I will
plainly be;
A child of undestiny;
to ruminate forever
of things I have not lost,
and gloat in happiness,
of sweet moonlight frost.
A subtle sign of magic,
a subtle sign of lost,
and here I remain,
the child of undestiny.

From the Valley She Shines

Her heart fluttering and mind whirling, she clutches the pillow next to her, her only grasp on reality in the fuzzy moment when one realizes that she's not asleep but still caught in the symbols and mysticism of the lingering dream. And slowly the cues of reality sink in: I'm in bed. I'm in bed and it was only a dream. I am waking up. But when do I awaken? That last line is shrugged off with a shake of the head, as if to remove the remaints of a thought, discarded among the twisted sheets. And slowly the muscles move, wiping away tears, wrestling with uncooperative blankets and a strange feeling that the dream meant something.

Alas, in the waking moments the dream slips away, hiding in the vast spaces between neurons, forgotton until another day, another dream, and the waking days take over the subconcious.

Hehe.

This reminds me of someone.

According to the SelectSmart.com Belief System Selector, my #1 belief match is Unitarian Universalism. What do you believe? Visit SelectSmart.com/RELIGION

Interesting.

Mom, I miss you.

I know I said I wouldn't, but...I do.

You never taught me how to make chocolate mousse.

I watch "West Wing" and think of you.

And no, I wasn't going to marry Ron. Or John. And it's still none of your business whether I had sex with any guy. Sorry, but that one stays.

But I still love you anyway. Why did you have to suddenly/not suddenly go? It does suck.

Dear James,

Here I wander
blighted of sight
a wandering soul
in the dead of night
dreaming of men in costumes
and women in fright
a crown of fire
in sad sunlight.
I wonder about Wicked
and all the men I know
wonder about life
and mystery
and sadness.
What will this new time
bring to me
what will I bring to it?
Or will it be like every year
longing and fear and pain?
I wish at the bottom of my heart
for the black knight upon black steed
but if it were left up to me
I'd settle for a moment
in the hands of greatness
left to wander the plains
of what is left to wander,
content that it may be
a sorry sight
a wandering soul
that is only me.

On A More Serious Note

The Rude Pundit visited some of the carnage that still exists in New Orleans and surrounding neighborhoods. It makes me want to cry.

I know that it takes time to rebuild. There are houses still with FEMA tarps on them from Hurricane Andrew in Florida. But I wonder, how long will it be? And you know, why? Is this what my tax dollars get me? I work and pay taxes, and all it gets is the inevitable death of entire cities and neighborhoods? Fuck that, makes me not want to pay taxes anymore. What about schools? I pay taxes for those. Or hell, about twelve thousand other things that I would prefer that my tax money went to instead of a bunch of lying, money grubbing cowards who want to throw away America for the Almighty Dollar. People who want everyone to live in fear and despair so that not only can they make a profit, they can fill their swimming pools and yachts with quarters and dive around in it.

It makes me sick.