bah humbug.

I can’t help but feel a little bit scroogey this week. I shouldn’t, really. I mean, the cats have been extra cuddly with me, I had an alright weekend, even as nasty cold as it is out there, the heat’s on full blast for free of charge in my empty apartment. . . Hell, I even got a holiday floral bouquet sent to me for the first time ever at work today. (Go figure, the first time I get flowers in over a year and a half and it’s from an Oncology nurse in Louisiana, but still, it was awfully sweet and it’s always nice to know I’m appreciated for what I do day-to-day in the office. . . )

But still. . . I’m going home this week. Maybe that’s what it is.

My mom’s house is super small. My brother and his family will be m.i.a, off in Connecticut this year. It’ll be my first xmas sans the nieces/nephew brigade in something like 4-5 years. . . No childlike joy, no Santa Claus, no milk and cookies, no anticipation. Instead it will be my chain smoking mother, bartending step-dad (seriously, who has to bartend on XMAS day??), hermit uncle brad (who we thought was dead after disappearing from his trailer weeks ago) and myself, moping in a 5 room, one-story house, hiding in the spare bedroom, wishing I was still on speaking terms with any of my former classmates or high school working buddies. . .

I have three David Lynch films netflixed and saved for xmas day. Stephen King’s latest collection of short stories in hard cover. Special Topics in Calamity Physics. The new Andrew Bird CD (which is INCREDIBLE, btw). No cats :( . A full iPod, but broken earphones. I’m sure Joan will supply the Vodka. Other than that . . . 5 days of nothingness. I’ll be lugging my laptop as well, so maybe I can actually start writing something other than unpolished garbage—but I’m thinking this will prob remain my key to the outside world, sanity, etc. Venting on my keyboard.

Recalling yesterdays. Old xmas memories. . .

How I wish I could relive the simple joys of childlike xmas. The year I got a Barbie horse. My supernintendo with Aladdin (still play it some 14 years later). Callie, the perfectest cat that ever lived. Hiding from my cousins in the closet. Getting mascara in my 7th grade, uneducated eyes and blaming my Quasimodo like eye swelling on my mom’s smoking. Getting cans of slim jims and multi-click it colored pens from my uncle brad.

The year my brother tried to give me a Smash Mouth cd.

The Chicago Christmases with mike in our old apartment with the twinkling mini-tree. Sleeping until early AM at my brother’s suburban Illinois house until Ian awakes us all at 3:30 AM, sure Santa has already arrived. Putting Ian back to bed. Waking up an hour later with him and Emma at the foot of my bed, pleading.

My grandma’s quilt.

A Christmas Story, 24 hours on repeat on TNT. My uncle Brad trying to play Taboo but getting frustrated and cussing out the cards. "Forgetting" Aunt Gail’s presents at Staci’s house. Hiding from Aunt Viv so she doesn’t condemn me to hell for my tattoos and unchristian like ways. Not knowing which of my cousins is which.

Grandma’s cherry cheesecake bars.

Bonding with my brother over his uber-strong margarita martinis. Telling my sister in law I still have no plans for grad school, the third time this evening. Giving my mom an afghan I crocheted that “she loves” and I never see again. Watching my grandma slide down the hill in an inflatable snow tube. Watching the boys play snow football. Shaking the presents under the tree.

Waiting for Santa Claus.

Those are the things I miss. Cherish. Love. The sounds of sleigh bells, hanging up the plastic mistletoe, sharing the holiday with those I love more than anything in the world. Loving, eating, hugging, relaxing. . . But this year, I just don’t know what it is. What’s missing. Truth be told, Christmas was never my favorite, favorite holiday, that was usually thanksgiving or Halloween, but this year I’m just sort of sad and empty. I hope this will all change as soon as I go back to Argyle—maybe it’s because it’s my first Xmas in Argyle in the new house. The new house is great, sure, for Mom and Brent. Its one hell of an upgrade from 503 North State Street, but it’s not my home. It’s not where I grew up, and I don’t belong.

Still, I wish I could stay in Chicago. The cats will be lonely and I need to water my flowers. But Xmas is about giving, not receiving, and I need to give my mom me this year. Let her know I’m there for her and even though I don’t agree with all of her lifestyle choices, I still love her. So for her, my gift is pretending to be that same little girl who tore open all the presents at age 3 and sabotaged family xmas. If any of you are in Argyle, or even the slightest vicinity of Lafayette/Green County, call me. I will be bored.

With this, merry Christmas and may you and your families be jolly. I’m saving my energy for New Years, Jay Reatard and Justice will be waiting upon my return. HOLLER.

done rambling for NOW. I got some office dvds that need to be watched. WORD.