I hate Xmas, and other problems
I am terrible at this blogging business. I don’t even remember what happened since last time I wrote in here, but I’m sure it was nothing important. So let me start from what I remember from the recent past. I guess I can profile Crystal Ball, the Winter Concert, and how much I hate Xmas.
I went to Crystal Ball with Nour, who, might I add, was absolutely frightened. I felt a little bad, but he soon understood that it wasn’t a big deal, and that he need not dread anything. We ate at Felix & Oscars, and received a lot of weird looks from people who were dressed normally (e.g. t-shirt and jeans). Steve and Nour also took some 9 ft. balloon polls from the dance. Lindsay and I decided that we were just going to pretend that they weren’t with us. We decided that, if necessary, we could pretend to be lesbians, just to avoid association.
We just had our “Winter Concert” for band. I really enjoyed all the music we played, especially Sleep. It’s just pretty much a beautiful piece of music. It doesn’t really matter what I think, though. You can take the text and do with it what you will.
The evening hangs beneath the moon,
A silver thread on darkened dune.
With closing and eyes and resting head,
I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow, safe in bed,
A thousand pictures fill my head.
I cannot sleep, my mind's a-flight;
And yet my limbs seem made of lead.
If there are noises in the night,
A frightening shadow, flickering light;
Then I surrender unto sleep,
Where clouds of dream give second sight.
What dreams may come, both dark and deep,
Of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep,
As I surrender unto sleep.
In other news, I absolutely hate Christmas. I should probably just call it Xmas, because that’s really all it is. It is an exercise in American commercialism, just like everything else. At our house, we have the same artificial tree we've had since I was a baby. And these days, you can buy an artificial tree that looks exactly like a real one. So why buy a real one? For the pine scent? For the joy of vacuuming pine needles off the rug every day? I don't get it. And then, after New Year's Day, you see the most depressing thing ever: all the dead, rejected trees sitting out on the sidewalk, waiting to be taken to the dump. Mutilate a living thing, take it home, hang shit on it, then kick it to the curb: That's everything evil about America in a nutshell.
Working at Younkers really doesn’t help this hatred any. I stand around at a counter for hours listening to repetitive Xmas music, which is seeping from the speakers like pus from an open wound. While standing behind the counter I sell a whole lot of shit to people who don’t need it. Worse, I sell the shit to people for prices they can’t resist. I hate it. The insanity begins the day after Thanksgiving, when anyone with two brain cells to rub together will stay the hell away from anything resembling a retail store. Somehow, though, the idiots come out in force every year. It starts in October and there's no let-up until at least the second week of January. I hate it.
And now for news that you don't care about; I am absolutely starved for intellectual conversation, as most intelligent people probably are. There are so few people that I can sit down and have an intellectual exchange about politics, and society, and religion, and all the stupid shit that you can’t change but are overjoyed to lament about. I did get to talk with Mike a little about this kind of junk today, which is what really made me miss being able to do it more than once every six months. Most of the time it’s like I talk and no one really understands, so they nod, and I’m left talk at an intellectual vacuum.
I can’t say that I absolutely hate it here, because there are a lot of people around who I care about, and who have done great things to influence my life. I’ve actually spent a lot of time thinking about why I am glad to be as old as I am, because a lot of times it’s very difficult to understand. I want to be older, I feel older, I am old on the inside, but there is a reason that I’m still here chillin’.
It’s obvious that I’m still here because all of these people are here, too. They make me who I am. I still can’t help thinking that I don’t fit. It’s true, I probably don’t fit. I think I have to wait until I grow up, or at least achieve a numerical age in which people think I am worthy of consideration.
I guess I just want somewhere to be, I want to be where I don’t have to pretend to be something I don’t want to be. I want to be somewhere I don’t have to keep it short so they will listen and simple so they will understand. Life isn’t simple; there is nothing about it that is simple. I’m tired of pretending that everything is okay, that I don’t have baggage, that I don’t need anyone, that life is simple. Life is short, time is flying, and I’m looking for baggage that goes with mine.
Ashley
When I am alone
When I’ve thrown of the weight of this crazy stone
When I’ve lost all care for the things I own
That’s when I miss you
I went to Crystal Ball with Nour, who, might I add, was absolutely frightened. I felt a little bad, but he soon understood that it wasn’t a big deal, and that he need not dread anything. We ate at Felix & Oscars, and received a lot of weird looks from people who were dressed normally (e.g. t-shirt and jeans). Steve and Nour also took some 9 ft. balloon polls from the dance. Lindsay and I decided that we were just going to pretend that they weren’t with us. We decided that, if necessary, we could pretend to be lesbians, just to avoid association.
We just had our “Winter Concert” for band. I really enjoyed all the music we played, especially Sleep. It’s just pretty much a beautiful piece of music. It doesn’t really matter what I think, though. You can take the text and do with it what you will.
The evening hangs beneath the moon,
A silver thread on darkened dune.
With closing and eyes and resting head,
I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow, safe in bed,
A thousand pictures fill my head.
I cannot sleep, my mind's a-flight;
And yet my limbs seem made of lead.
If there are noises in the night,
A frightening shadow, flickering light;
Then I surrender unto sleep,
Where clouds of dream give second sight.
What dreams may come, both dark and deep,
Of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep,
As I surrender unto sleep.
In other news, I absolutely hate Christmas. I should probably just call it Xmas, because that’s really all it is. It is an exercise in American commercialism, just like everything else. At our house, we have the same artificial tree we've had since I was a baby. And these days, you can buy an artificial tree that looks exactly like a real one. So why buy a real one? For the pine scent? For the joy of vacuuming pine needles off the rug every day? I don't get it. And then, after New Year's Day, you see the most depressing thing ever: all the dead, rejected trees sitting out on the sidewalk, waiting to be taken to the dump. Mutilate a living thing, take it home, hang shit on it, then kick it to the curb: That's everything evil about America in a nutshell.
Working at Younkers really doesn’t help this hatred any. I stand around at a counter for hours listening to repetitive Xmas music, which is seeping from the speakers like pus from an open wound. While standing behind the counter I sell a whole lot of shit to people who don’t need it. Worse, I sell the shit to people for prices they can’t resist. I hate it. The insanity begins the day after Thanksgiving, when anyone with two brain cells to rub together will stay the hell away from anything resembling a retail store. Somehow, though, the idiots come out in force every year. It starts in October and there's no let-up until at least the second week of January. I hate it.
And now for news that you don't care about; I am absolutely starved for intellectual conversation, as most intelligent people probably are. There are so few people that I can sit down and have an intellectual exchange about politics, and society, and religion, and all the stupid shit that you can’t change but are overjoyed to lament about. I did get to talk with Mike a little about this kind of junk today, which is what really made me miss being able to do it more than once every six months. Most of the time it’s like I talk and no one really understands, so they nod, and I’m left talk at an intellectual vacuum.
I can’t say that I absolutely hate it here, because there are a lot of people around who I care about, and who have done great things to influence my life. I’ve actually spent a lot of time thinking about why I am glad to be as old as I am, because a lot of times it’s very difficult to understand. I want to be older, I feel older, I am old on the inside, but there is a reason that I’m still here chillin’.
It’s obvious that I’m still here because all of these people are here, too. They make me who I am. I still can’t help thinking that I don’t fit. It’s true, I probably don’t fit. I think I have to wait until I grow up, or at least achieve a numerical age in which people think I am worthy of consideration.
I guess I just want somewhere to be, I want to be where I don’t have to pretend to be something I don’t want to be. I want to be somewhere I don’t have to keep it short so they will listen and simple so they will understand. Life isn’t simple; there is nothing about it that is simple. I’m tired of pretending that everything is okay, that I don’t have baggage, that I don’t need anyone, that life is simple. Life is short, time is flying, and I’m looking for baggage that goes with mine.
Ashley
When I am alone
When I’ve thrown of the weight of this crazy stone
When I’ve lost all care for the things I own
That’s when I miss you
posted by findingashley at
11:45 PM
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1 comments
