Merry Christmas or whatever.

I feel weird that I haven’t been into Christmas this year. Probably a lot of reasons for that, but it feels kind of crummy anyway. I normally have a great time making elaborate cards and little gifts and baking cookies and all that stuff but this year I’ve been BLAH for all of it. And here I am on Christmas Eve, sick and feverish and mopey, and I’m kind of looking forward to it all being over and done with.

Anyway, since cards didn’t happen this year, I will use this opportunity to say merry Christmas to anyone who happens to be reading. And maybe I will soon have a burst of inspiration or energy or something and I will make presents then and we can all have post-Christmas Christmas and it will be lovely.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Oh yeah, PS:

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It’s Santa, get it?!?  I was going to send it out as a big mass text message but it looked funny on my phone.  So here ya go.

This song made me cry.

Sometimes I will cry for a reason I don’t exactly understand.  It’s not necessarily out of sadness for myself at that exact moment, but sadness because a feeling even exists.  I don’t know how to explain.  Sometimes a song or an image or a scene from a movie will resonate a certain way and I know exactly how that person felt when creating that thing and it makes me hurt for me and for them and for everyone else who has felt that.  I guess that is kind of the point of art, right?  To get a reaction, to make someone else feel or understand…hell, I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, I was in the car on my way home tonight when I heard “A Better Son/Daughter” by Rilo Kiley and by the time I pulled into my driveway I had tears running down my face.  The melody itself is simple, almost like a tune from a music box, and the percussion is just a snare drum, very constant and almost military-like.  It was the lyrics that really got me, but it all fit together so well.

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can’t breathe
And hope someone will save me this time
And your mother’s still calling you insane and high
Swearing it’s different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that god never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you love things just because
Like the sick and dying

And sometimes when you’re on
You’re really fucking on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through
You’ll fake it if you have to
And you’ll show up for work with a smile
And you’ll be better
You’ll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you’ll be awake
You’ll be alert
You’ll be positive though it hurts
And you’ll laugh and embrace all of your friends
And you’ll be a real good listener
You’ll be honest
You’ll be brave
You’ll be handsome and you’ll be beautiful
You’ll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You’re weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You’re weak but not giving in
And you’ll fight it you’ll go out fighting all of them

I love it.  I love it that it starts out so bleak but ends up so hopeful.  It illustrates so well that sometimes things are crap and there isn’t always a way to fix it except to try and to fake it and to keep on moving…and things will get better.

I don’t know.  I’m rambling.  I can’t explain what I mean, so I probably shouldn’t be posting this, but I wanted to share something that caused me to react so strongly.  Give it a listen, or something.

What do you think of Christmas, Darla?

Always start your day by counting your problems.

Barf.

There is a radio station in Detroit that exclusively plays crappy pop/hip-hop music, has the most obnoxious DJs and prides itself on coming up with creative phrases like “Britney Suicide Watch 2007.”  I don’t find that funny, and I also don’t appreciate their most recent holiday contest, “Have the Breast Christmas Ever.”  The advertisements suggest that we ladies send in photos and descriptions illustrating why we would be great candidates to receive complimentary implants from a local plastic surgeon.  Then listeners go to the website and vote on who is “most deserving.”  This is just gross to me on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start.

While I believe everyone should have the right to do what they choose with their bodies, I think elective plastic surgery is generally a bad idea and should definitely not be explicitly encouraged by the media.  It’s gross that this radio station is promoting itself through the insecurities of young women who are desperate enough to post (what I am calling) degrading photos of themselves on the internet to be viewed and rated by a bunch of horny guys.  It’s also sad that a potentially dangerous surgery is so commonplace now that doctors are willing to do it for free in order to get their names mentioned on the radio a couple times an hour.  Ugh, I have a lot more to say about all this but I am tired and it makes me a little sick.

Not safe to listen to at work!

This is not normally my sort of thing, and I got it from a highly unlikely source….but it made me laugh pretty hard.

EDIT:  Okay, what I said earlier today about the cold lowering our standards for funny?  I need to keep that in mind.  This video is not that funny, but I feel weird taking it down now.  Sorry, folks.

It’s cold and there’s nothing to do here.

It’s a proud day to hail from Farmington Hills!  Someone from my hometown won the 11th annual national “Wacky Warning Label Contest,” sponsored by Michigan Lawsuit Abuse Watch.  I didn’t even know there was a Lawsuit Abuse Watch going on, but that’s good to know.  Here was the grand prize winner:

Apparently this is national news.

I guess it’s good for a mild chuckle, but I wouldn’t say it was worth $500.  The cold has lowered our standards for funny, I guess.

Lessons

More than one person in the last couple weeks has told me I need “bitch lessons.”  I don’t even know what it means, but I know it is being said as a criticism.  Ridiculous!  Since when is it a good thing to be a bitch?  Why would I want lessons to increase my bitchiness?  Who offers said lessons?  Would I have to pay for them if I wanted them?

Perhaps these supposedly well-meaning people giving this advice are trying to tell me, “Heather, I think you need to be more assertive.”  This may be true in some cases, but I’m pretty sure I get things done effectively for the most part.  See, the thing is, I can be substantially bitchy when I want to be.  I think we all can, when the situation calls for it, with or without lessons.  When someone is rude to me for no reason, oh man.  Bitch city.  I just choose not to be that way most of the time!  Is that so wrong?  I say no!

Actually, come to think of it, I like me quite a bit  just the way I am.   And now I am off to spend my evening with someone who likes me for who I am as well!  I bid you good day!

Weird dream

Some of you may remember that I was a dorm desk reception for my first 3 years at MSU: 2 years in Holmes Hall and my last year at West Circle.  That was the best job…I got some quality studying done, in between reading trashy magazines and loaning out vacuum cleaners.  The only time it was really annoying was when irate students would come down to complain about something that required the maintenance crew…the maintenance guys were nearly worthless.  All except for Wank.  Yes, Wank.  I had a pretty hefty crush on a guy named Michele (MEE-shell) Wank, if you can believe it.  He was probably 6 inches shorter than me with crazy curly hair and pretty blue eyes.  He was SO NICE and polite and always did what he was asked and he made my job so much easier.  Plus he was kind of a smart-ass, which of course I always love.  The fact that he had a rather unfortunate name didn’t really deter me, not that I made my interest known or that he was even really aware I was alive.

The point is, I haven’t thought about Wank for oh, 5+ years, and last night I had a wacky dream about him.  Well, not necessarily about him, but he was featured.  I just think it’s funny my brain has all these people and images and scenarios filed away and sometimes they pop out in dreams.  I wonder what else I’ve consciously forgotten that is still hanging around up there somewhere.  I also wonder what happens during the day to shake some of these things loose at night when I don’t even realize it.

PS:  With regards to yesterday’s post:  That yucky feeling still hasn’t gone away, I’m still waiting it out.  However, I did think of one thing that might soothe me.  Joseph Schmidt Sea-Salt Caramel Truffles!  Wendy took me to Joseph Schmidt headquarters while I was in SF and OH MY DEAR LORD these things were unbelievable.  I’m sure they’re not available in Michigan, of course, and even if they were I don’t really need to be drowning my sorrows in chocolate.  But mmm, if you ever get the chance, I highly recommend picking some up.

PPS:  Ha, reading what I just wrote reminded me of Sealab 2021:

Marco: Calm down, I’ll see what I can do about finding your little toy.
Captain Murphy: It’s not a toy. It makes real cupcakes, with a 40 watt bulb, and there’s icing packets. But the secret ingredient is love. Damn it.
Marco: Just try to calm down, go have some pudding.
Captain Murphy: Pudding can’t fill the emptiness inside me! But it’ll help.

Ugh

I hate it when I feel naggingly discontent.  It’s usually a pretty temporary feeling, almost a physical ache…I can’t figure out what I want.  I run through the list in my head: am I hungry? thirsty? tired?  Hot or cold?  Am I lonely or do I want to be alone?  Would I feel better if I was moving or sitting still?  Outside or in?  And when all the answers come up “whatever” and I can’t come up with any other ideas, I just ride it out and wait for the feeling to go away.  Doesn’t usually take too long, but it’s pretty much the worst feeling ever.

Well, I thought it was the worst feeling ever.  Worse is when I can figure out what it is EXACTLY that I want, what would make it all better, but I can’t have it and maybe never again.  I’ve got that going right now and I’ll be glad when it’s gone.