There's Something...About Christ-mas

It's the most depressing time of the year. I'm sure somewhere there's a study about the amount of suicides committed during the Holidays. I, personally, hate Christmas and everything it stands for.

I should also state, that December 25th is my date of birth.

Every year since 1983 I have had to share the spotlight with Jesus and the jolly fat guy. I've had many people attest to the "coolness" of having my birthday on Christmas but no one really knows what it's like.

It sucks big Christmas balls.

Everyone and their Mom receives gifts (depending on when Hanukkah lies, sorry Rag) on my birthday and I am continually forced to rearrange my day or not spend time with the ones I want to spend time with because they are with their own respective families. All I wanted this year was to be on a warm, sunny beach with myself. No one else.

I'm tired of the hype, the gift giving, the Ho Ho Ho's, the seasons greetings and the nonchalant-ness of the commercialization of the Holiday. I'm just plain tired of not getting my way. There I said it, I'm a brat. I want nothing to do with anyone associated with Christmas. It's the crappiest time of the year.

Often, when someone asks to see a form of identification, they will notice my D.O.B. and say:

"OH! You're a Christmas baby! That's so cool! Do you get double the presents?" "Actually, no, but everyone else does!"

She looks disappointed. And I smile like a smart ass.

My birthday is not special. Yeah it's cool that I share my birthday with Jesus, but seriously, where is the Christ in Christmas? It's all about good ol' Saint Nick-him and his dumb reindeer ruin everything.

See. While most people have a birthday like, March 1st or August 11th or even October 15th it's a day all its own. Its a day you get to look forward to, a day that you and ONLY you get presents from loved ones and get to go get drunk with your friends. When the Christmakkauh season approaches you, again, have something to look forward to. A day of presents, family and joy. Me? It's all in one fucking day. My birthday is shared with everyone else receiving gifts they asked Santa for and I in turn also have to give gifts on my birthday.

Again, I'm a brat.

When I was younger my older cousin, also a brat, didn't understand why I received extra presents on Christmas. She couldn't grasp that Christmas was in fact my birthday. She then would run to the well-lit tree and begin to open my gifts. This occurred on my 4th birthday, and it's documented on video. It kept occurring year after year, until I "didn't celebrate" my birthday on my birthday. I would open my birthday gifts on Christmas Eve so as to not upset my incoherent, incompetent family member.

Am I traumatized? Hells to the yeah. I hate a big hoopla. I hate when non-family members feel obligated to have a birthday cake for me at their house where I am spending Christmas. I hate that I have to choose which family to appease and which family to disappoint on my day of birth. And I hate that no one is around.

On my 21st birthday, I sat alone in my bedroom. Crying. I should have been at a bar, barely able to hold myself up. Instead, the bars close on December 25th.

This year, all I ask of the dude with the white beard and red suit: World Peace and a new birthday.

'Tis the season!

Blue Skies

I stare into
the distance there is
no truth in sight
who can tell me why

everybody's looking for a blue sky
searching for an answer on a satellite
I know there's got to be a blue sky out there to see
A blue sky waiting for me

Tortoise and the Hare

Slow and steady wins the race.

Mary and Paul were two young adults. They met in a record store in 1977. She was a model. He was a photographer. It was a match made in post psychedelic bliss. They married 9 months later. And after 14 years of marriage, two kids and a house in suburbia they divorced.

The ramifications of their quick decision to love wouldn't come to fruition until their children were much older and more screwed up than you can imagine.

Are their really ramifications from love?

Many know the fable the Tortoise and the Hare, the story concerns a hare who ridicules a slow-moving tortoise for being...well, slow. In response, the tortoise challenges his swift mocker to a race. The hare soon leaves the tortoise in the dust, confident of winning, he then decides to take a nap midway through the course. When he awakes, he finds that his competitor the slow guy who crawled, slowly but steadily, has already won the race.

Anyone would have bet money on the hare to win that race, so why don't people gamble with a fast moving relationship. When you know, you know...right?

Paul and Mary thought they knew. And to this day are forced to keep in contact with each other, mainly for their children's sake. By rushing into love, they weren't completely sure of what the others intentions were. Paul didn't want kids. Mary did. Had she known this little detail, would she have gone through with the marriage? Or was she too blinded by love?

Two friends of mine, in the past few months have met "the one" and have decided to get married after only knowing each other for approximately 4 months. Both are engaged. Both are extremely intelligent. Both are dealing with long distance. Both are insanely happy.

Truth be told, there are many naysayers toward both relationships for very different reasons. Details which will not be disclosed here. Is it that they can't believe in love? Or the timing of it all? And is it really love or just lust? That can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars, winning the world series kind of stuff. And who are we to judge?

Is there really a protocol for being in love? Must you wait a year to move in with a significant other? Must you date for 4 months then contemplate getting married? Do you tell your girlfriend that you love her at a baseball game? *wink*

The answer to all of those questions is a big, fat...NO/YES! Because it doesn't matter. All that matters is what you are feeling at that moment, in time. You're ready. You're practicing your swing, knocking the dirt from your cleats, firmly planting them into the ground but not before writing an "A" in with the tip of your bat for luck, there's the pitch, SMACK, it's high, it's gone. Over the left field wall. A walk off home run.

You can feel it in your bones when you're ready. When you're ready for marriage, when you're ready to swing for the fences, when you're ready to move in, when you're ready to win the race and when you're ready to date again. It's not about timing. It's just about the right person.

The tale of the tortoise and the hare is not exactly a love story, but more of a lesson. A lesson that we shouldn't take a nap in the middle of a race, even if it's supposed to be a sure thing.

Sure, slow and steady wins the race...but a heart doesn't know when not to love.

Happy Anniversary

One year ago this month it was over. It was all freeing and crushing at the same time. It was one year ago that I put one foot in front of the other and walked out of the door and made a run for a life of my own. A life that I would determine and a life that would be amazing.

So, there I was...24, almost 25, ready to have a bangin' career, lovely friends and the occasional date here and there. The world was my oyster. But like Sandra Bullock so eloquently states in While You Were Sleeping...life doesn't always turn out the way you plan. Which, sometimes, can be a good thing. Not so much for an impatient woman like myself.

This past year, I learned a lot about myself.

I learned that I am a lot stronger than I give myself credit for.

I know how to have a good time.

In Un-Happier Times

I miss this ball of fur and drool.


He would ALWAYS lick my face. Puppy facials.

Puppy Love

There's a scene in Marley & Me that signifies the special intuition and bond an owner and a dog have.  Jen Aniston's character just found out she lost her baby.  They, her and Owen Wilson character, arrive home from the doctor to find Marley.  Owen leaves the room and comes back shortly after to find Jen sitting on the couch.  Marley's head is in her lap and he's sitting there, comforting her.  She leans down, sobbing, petting and hugging him. 

The unconditional love of a dog is a love uncomparable to that of the love between human beings.  They don't talk back (OK, they may bark...), they are always happy to see you and they are content with your company lying on the couch, playing catch or just watching you write a blog on your laptop. 

I find myself very lonely at times, missing the unconditional love I once had.  I find myself almost in tears when I see dogs on television, on the street or in a magazine or newspaper.  I miss my little buddy.  My companion when I had no one else to confide in, no one else to kiss or hug, and no one else to just cuddle with after a hard day. 

You may be wondering what happened, and why I no longer have "my" dog.  My ex (aka Douchebag) bought him, trained him and reared him.  I simply just loved him, and took care of him as part of my responsibilities whilst living with Douchebag.  We would take our morning walk, flying down the stairs and onto the puppy sidewalk, chasing the stray cats into the bushes and watching the cars pass by on their daily commute.  We would eat breakfast together, I'd head into the bathroom to begin my morning routine and he would lay in the doorway as my body guard.  I'd trip over him daily, not learning that he would always take a mid-morning snooze at the threshold.

Nevertheless, when Douchebag and I parted ways, I begged for partial custody but had no means of taking him to court, since in fact, legally, he was his dog.  I was allowed visitation rights whenever I wanted to make the treck up to see him, but it would always end up in a fight and eventually I realized in order to move on from that aspect of my life, I had to give up my Puppy Love.  The only man that could make me feel like a million bucks when I was in tears and the only man that understood exactly what I was feeling and thinking every time I looked in his eyes. 

He was my protector.  He was my little boy.  

In essence, I lost part of my family the day I moved out.  I was more torn about leaving my puppy and thinking that he would think that my absence was his fault.  I tried to best explain to him that Daddy and I didn't love each other anymore and that I would try my hardest to see him all the time if Daddy would allow it.

I had contemplated many scenarios of dognapping in my head and even devised a plan with my hair stylist, but nothing ever came to fruition.  Nor would I have even tried, I'm not THAT crazy.

I miss him.

I miss his cold nose on my hand in the morning.  I miss his frustrated sighs when he was trying to get my attention.  I miss him sticking his head in my laundry and stealing my underwear and bras.  I miss him laying on my pillow after I got up from the bed.  I miss him leaning on the back of my legs when I cooked dinner.  I miss the look of innocence when he would rip apart a toy within 5 minutes of having it.  I miss him tilting his head to listen to me.  I miss him barking at Douchebag for yelling at me.  I miss him thinking he's a bird and trying to catch up with them as they flew (usually dragging me at the other end).  I miss him sneezing all over my car window after I JUST washed it.  I miss him thinking he is a lot smaller than 100lbs and trying to squeeze through small places and trying to curl up on my lap.  I miss him running to the door and trying to stop but instead would fly right into the unsuspecting victim.  I miss him holding down my feet when I would do sit-ups.  I miss his head in my lap when I would drive him "home."

I originally saw Marley & Me, ironically on a plane to Vegas, to begin my "Girls Only" vacation.  The trip I booked to celebrate my singlehood and to forget about Douchebag and the puppy I wasn't allowed to see.  I was trying very hard not to watch, since, well, I knew what was going to happen.  I was not prepared to cry on an airplane full of strangers and there was no way I was going to put a damper on the first 6 hours of my vacation.  But, I couldn't resist Marley's cute face and the way he reminded me so much of my puppy.  I was sucked in.  The scene with Jen Aniston with Marley's head in her lap completely emcompasses and describes Puppy Love.

John Grogan: A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary? 

 

Creature Feature

A guest post on life affected by love (all kinds) by Tim.

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I am deaf. I am smiling. I am myself, for the first time in years.

We’re programmed to believe that this chance to be alive and breathing is meant to be something “larger” and “more important.” Bank accounts, mortgages, flat screens. I love possessions, but I am not possessed by them. I am possessed by the sound of a new song, the hair of a beautiful woman, the way her skin looks in the morning sun, the change in her breathing as she wakes up. The fact that some of them just simply feel like home.

I can pick an endless numbers of days this year that have changed me, but some are far more special than others. I’ve played music since I was three years old, and it has never been as vital as I feel it is right now. I’ve fallen in love many times, and that gorgeous, confusing dance is as vital as it has ever been. Music and the love of my family and friends are the only things I want to surround myself with until the day I die. I consider myself to be the luckiest man-boy on the planet.

I have played music, fallen in love, and shared laughter with some of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. Each one of them has made my heart as gracious as it is today. Days away I still feel every beat; every note makes my heart want to explode. Every memory of a kiss feels as it did when it was changing me the first time. I am alive. The wrinkles forming under my eyes are mostly there because of smiles, which makes me feel even more grateful.

Months ago I thought I was dead. My life came crashing down in front of me. A time consisting of layers of pain, exhaustion, and mind-bending agony that I will never be able to adequately quantify. (Can you ever?) Denial is a strong thing, and it ruined me for a long time. The music I made was good, but lacked passion. The love I try to show to everyone in my life felt unrequited with the one person who I thought was my world. She was. Always will be a part of me. However, I need more. I need someone to feel it. I want everyone around me to be their beautiful selves and let loose with whatever is in their soul. (That’s why she ended it. She is who she is and I want her to fly and be the amazing spirit that she is.)

When I look back on my life there are glimpses of special moments which capture all the pain and how it somehow coalesced into something life-altering. Sad to say, we are all damaged, but that’s the beauty of it all. We are all one, it just takes a second to realize that some folks get it and some don’t.

As for today I will play music with three of my best friends. I will think of the amazing women I have had the pleasure of knowing, and wish that all of them could hug me all at once. Inspiration comes from every corner of your being…just look harder.