It's the most wonderful time of the year?

I've written many many many times on Christmas in the past few years.

Two years ago saw my vignette "Christmas Cross-Section" which talked about dysfunction at the holidays and the hope of Christmas.

Last year I wrote "Cookies", a non-fiction reflection on the point of Christmas.

This year I wrote "Other Breakable Objects" a story about friendship that uses the backdrop of the frustration of Christmas decorating.

From the ages of 1-12, Christmas was my favorite time of the year. 13-14, I began to notice a desperation in me. 15-16 it began to take a shape. 17-18 it formed a definite emptiness. Now I'm 19, and it's 17 days until Christmas. I am only trying to grasp the days as they slide through my fingers, intangible and relentless. It's Christmastime, and I feel nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I wonder if I am becoming fully realized as a queen of ice, or if I'm simply getting older. Will the feeling ever reverse? Will the excitement ever return?

I want to feel like I used to, but maybe this is simply part of the natural process of growing older and accepting that there are no mermaids in the swimming pool or fish eyes in the shower drain, and that you will never find Atlantis or borrowers in the attic, and you are just a human and life goes on with or without your consent.

And then again, maybe this is chemical. Maybe it's a reaction to all of the dramatic interludes between myself and the people around me that has caused my joy to numb and my sorrow to increase.

But then, maybe something is wrong with me. Everytime I hear a Christmas song that speaks Jesus' name, I feel a lump form in my throat.

Maybe nothing's wrong with Christmas at all- and everything's wrong with me.

The truth is...

I never know what I'm doing anymore.

Goodbye, Monk!

I know people say it's silly to be sad over the ending of a tv show- but to me, Monk was more than a show.
It was the show that defined an era of my life. From the time we moved to California to the present day, my family has almost never missed an episode of Monk. It became an event in my house. Make popcorn- Monk's on!

I went through a really rough patch there, struggling with depression, self loathing and immense loneliness, and cheesy as it sounds, I could always turn Monk on and find a friend there with problems I could relate to, a tragic figure that could be anyone I knew. That is why Monk was in fact the only tv show I've ever followed consistently, certainly the only one that has managed to bring me to tears on more than one occasion.

But the ending was hopeful and a fine conclusion to the series which at times made my teenage years bearable. To Tony Shaloub, Traylor Howard, Ted Levine, Jason Gray-Stanford, Bitty Schram, Andy Breckman and co. - thank you so much. You have no idea what your series meant to me personally.

It was an excellent run, and leaves me hopeful for my own future as this era of my life seems to really be over, and another finally and thankfully right around the corner.

My Thanksgiving: A Photographic Journey

How was it? Well why not see for yourself! (they'll probably be cut off- just click on the photo to see it bigger)

Thanksgiving

means to act in an attitude of thankfulness. Giving thanks for what you have, giving thanks for what you were spared.
If God were to line up the ungrateful people in the world, I assure you I'd be first in line.

But today I would like to be thankful, even for the arbitrary aspects of life. The things that we take for granted.

I want to be thankful not just for having my basic necessities provided for, or even for the things we are blessed with (such as electricity and clean water) as middle class Americans.
But I'm talking about the things you'd never think of.

I want to take the time to be thankful that there are no velociraptors a la Jurassic Park hanging around my house; that there are a million shades of color instead of just primaries; that Stalin did not live forever; that platypus have beaks; that I have never had a heart attack; that someone invented the bathtub; that people do not look the same; that you are not allowed to relive moments; that for everything the mind forgets another thing takes it's place; for stupid inside jokes; and even late nights when you've had too much caffeine, and simply cannot sleep.

Winter in Southern California

Today the sky was so glorious grey I did not want to get out of bed. I did get out of bed, to face the world and all it’s drabness; so many colors that blur together. My head begins to hurt when I am out there. I am overwhelmed by a million voices.
I hide in the back of a room, with the lights off, and window open. With a cup of tea, and an empty stomach, and there I am reborn.

When I say I'm a Christian

When I say I’m a Christian, I’m not saying anything else.
I’m simply saying that I have read through the gospels and found proof positive that Jesus was God incarnate, he died to pay for the sins of the world once and for all, and that I feel and know he is working in my life; and because of that, I honestly desire to live a life he would find pleasing, that gives him glory.


When I say I’m a Christian I’m not saying that I am better than anyone else.
In fact, being a Christian makes me aware of how flawed and messed up I am in comparison to the glory of Christ.


When I say I’m a Christian I’m not saying I am in a position to look across the world and judge.
Humans, of which I am one, are flawed, which I desperately am, and the flawed can never judge the flawed. Criminals don’t put other criminals on trial.


When I say I’m a Christian I’m not saying I’m intolerant.
There are things laid out in the Bible as wrong, and so I disassociate myself from them in order to better serve and represent Christ.
If I see something harmful in the life of a friend I will point it out, (as I hope they would do for me), but I am never looking at them and saying how sinful they are, particularly if they are not even of my faith.
As I said, I am in no position to judge. If a friend’s actions break my heart, it is because I love them, not because I am standing on a moral high ground.


When I say I’m a Christian I am saying that I believe that I’ve found truth.
And I won’t apologize for that. There are absolute truths in the world, and there are beliefs.
If I am believing in truth, it is truth universally, and true for everyone.
If I am believing in what turns out to be false (though I doubt it), then it is false for everyone.
But I will never say it is only true on a person by person basis. So for all the wisdom of other religions (and there is a lot there), I cannot accept that they have some sort of “alternate truth” simply because there is no such thing.
(This does not mean I hold another’s beliefs against them. Everyone must find their path, I just hope it eventually finds the correct one. )


When I say I’m a Christian, I’m saying that I want to live like Christ.
Christ came in love, Christ was an aspect of God, and God IS love.
A Christian cannot be a true Christian and have a heart full of hatred. These are concepts at odds with one another. If a Christian is hateful, they are representing humanity, not God.
And so it is with me.
If I am hateful, I have lost sight of something. You must blame me and never God.

And if I am full of love, then it is all because of Jesus Christ who lives in me.

And that is all I want to say. Blessings.