And So It Goes

In light of the fact that Christmas carols have taken over the airwaves, almost 30 over-sized plastic candy canes have sprouted in a neighbor's gardern, and the line to hoist local children onto the lap of the mall santa was over an hour long today, I have only one question- how might one go "a-wassailing?"
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Un-American as it may seem, I don't really like Thanksgiving. I have my reasons, something to do with eating luke-warm food off my lap as I sit on the cooler outside my aunt's double wide. Or maybe its replaying the same conversation fifty times, once with everyone family member present and then once again for the forgetful. "No, I don't have a job. Yes, I am looking. Yes, of course I remember the time last year when I was drunk and ran into you at Chili's. Why, no, I hadn't thought of looking for work at the mall. I'll look into that as soon as I get home." Or maybe its fighting traffic piles and red lights for almost two hours, each way, only to come back home and have to forage for corn dogs.
The sentimental me, the one who used to love Thanksgiving, really wanted to put the ghosts of holidays past aside and relish in good times and great food. Well, sentimentality seemed to get lost among the sale-paper tablecloths and 80 degree weather. Thanksgiving itself seemed to pale in the looming shadow of the "biggest shopping day of the year." My equally cynical younger brother agreed that today was less about giving thanks and being with family than it was just another Thursday with an over-abundance of holiday themed food.

Here's hoping your Thanksgiving was everything mine wasn't.
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This week, under the guise of getting a start on my Christmas gifting, I went on a three day shopping binge in Orlando. I've never really needed an excuse to shop, but excessive generosity and the rapidly approaching holiday season provides the perfect cover for the outrageous spending I foresee in the coming months. Though I did manage to pick up a few gifts for those I love, or like alot, or even like just a little, I came home last night with a great many more gifts just for me. It's a terrible burden being so generous but, you know, somebody has to give.

Not that I have an aversion to taking. In fact, I could very possibly enjoy taking more than I enjoy giving. So, those of you who love me, or like me alot, or like me just a little, here are a few items I would enjoy taking, very much.
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I've spent the last few days in what can only be described as absolute hell. Fridays are not meant to be spent reining in four little terrors completely incapable of sitting still or shutting their mouths. Saturdays shouldn't be wasted away at Chevy dealerships pushing poor, helpless people into a circle of rabid car salesmen while the perfect day slips from your fingers. Had I been capable of saying no, I might have avoided the ten-hour workdays that tick away with the speed of drying paint, the suicidal thoughts, the homicidal rages, and the backaches that just wont quit. At the end of the day, after I dragged myself through the door and onto the couch, where I should have been all along, my mother presented me with the only thing in the world that could possibly have made the day better: a giant slab of Yoder's chocolate cake smothered with half an inch of their delicious chocolate icing. The only thing capable of saving me from my present hell was heaven itself. Thanks, Mom.
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My friend in L.A. got Paris Hilton's phone number the other day and gave it a call. Unfortunately, as most of L.A. had managed the same feat, her voicemail was full and the number promptly disconnected. Poor little rich girl.
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Before things between us go any further, there are a few things about myself I really think you should know.

Number 1: I cry at just about everything, and I don't mean dying puppies and broken hearts. By everything I tend to mean sappy phone commercials, discussions about student loan payments, there was a moment in Elf the other night when I felt a little teary, a few weeks ago I practically started sobbing when a cute little kid drew me a cute little picture to tell me he loved me, etc.

Number 2: I could eat Chinese food any hour of any day. A good date needn't include overpriced French food, but rather a perfectly ordered takee-outee special.

Number 3: I talk to my pets in an odd little voice. Worse than that, I respond for them in an even odder one.

Number 4: I am terrified of birds and some flying insects. Terrified, like stop-in-my-tracks-and-shudder-with-fear kind of terrified.

Number 5: Despite the fact that I have a very healthy sense of humor, there are a number of things I take incredibly seriously. The short list includes television and movie viewing, shopping, chocolate, and the over-commercialization of most major holidays. Don't even get me started on that last one.

Number 6: I have a growing affinity for Tom Jones.

and, Number 7: I have a very rural family. They grew up in a small farmhouse in Alabama and now most of them inhabit double wides in north Florida. When we're all together the speech rate tops out at about 10 words a minute and we eat things like cornbread and collard greens and pinto beans. I generally have a love-hate relationship with this part of myself but ultimately, deep, deep, deep down, I too love comfort food and speak with a Southern drawl.
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Best line on TV tonight: Drew Carey -"I don't know if it's the pajamas talking, but I'm going to sit here and watch my stories.'

Sadly, in case you hadn't noticed, this sums up the last six months of my life.
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Sometimes I worry about leading a small life. For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted much, much more from life than it happens to be offering at the time. I want bright lights and shining stars and recognition. Lots and lots of recognition. Maybe my struggle with gaining a real job stems from a reluctance to pluck myself from the dream of being bigger, important.
Other times I crave the American dream- big house, good kids, and a husband who loves me more than I could ever imagine. If I could have that dream, I don't think I would need the glitz and glamour. In the midst of all that love, my so-called small life wouldn't look so unimportant.
But really, I think I just want some purpose. Whether that comes from having my picture in magazines or cooking dinner for my family doesn't really matter, as long as I have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
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Notice the date, solidly into November, and please notice the temperature peaked at a balmy 90 degrees today. Serious disappointment when combined with the Christmas decorations popping up at the local mall. My parents have taken a weekend to visit friends and some choice real estate in North Carolina. The weatherman just reported they will experience 40 degree lows.
Other recent disappointments include the special Hong Kong episode of Cops which featured mostly English speaking British officers tracking down illegal aliens and very few Chinese speaking Asian men chasing members of the Chinese mafia, investing 30 minutes in a late-night episode of Judge Hatchett in which former lovers battled over the value of baseball cards stolen, sold, and burnt crispy only to have the case dismissed due to the fact that the plaintiff failed to provide evidence of the cards' worth, every episode of Last Call with Carson Daly, and the fact that yet another week has passed without a charming and handsome British millionaire knocking on my door to ask for directions to a local church where he'll read to the blind and shower gifts on poor kids and while we're conversing, he instantaneously falls head over heels in love with me and whisks me off to one of his many homes in Europe where I'll never have to work and can shop all day, without guilt, forever.

Not a disappointment, however, were tonight's 5:15 viewing of Elf and the 11:00 pm episode of "The Simpsons." Bright and gleaming minutes in a week full of slightly dull and tarnished hours.
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Just when I thought I had scratched the absolute bottom of the job search barrel, it turns out that I've apparently broken through the bottom and have started to bury myself in the ground underneath. Last night, I received an email informing me that I have been rejected for a position I never actually applied for. I guess I should thank them, though, their pre-emptive denial of my skills and educational merits has saved me the time and effort of applying later on.
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