Christmas day and stocking redemption

Today is the day. 2 months of "Jingle Bells" and "Christmas Shoes" on every radio station has brought us to this day. We have become so anxious for the holiday that we begin overlapping Halloween with it. We begin Christmas music on the night millions of children go trick-or-treating. Americans can't miss a beat.

Christmas. It's the day you accomplish the day's goals in less than an hour. You eat some sort of big meal and open gifts. The rest of the day consists of eating, napping, T.V. watching, and eating more. The food seems to stay out on the counter all day. You take so many naps, but still remain tired enough to fall asleep at any commercial. You keep on eating, with no hint of satisfaction. Too many sweets. To be honest, Christmas is really boring. There's like this unerlining rule that you can't do anything or go anywhere on Christmas day. You sit around your family with the occasion fiddling with the gifts you got that year. There are so many movies on T.V. that you can watch 24 hours of the Christmas Story. Or end up switching channels so much you realize however many years it's been on T.V., you haven't even seen it all the way through.

What's with movies like that? My dad is infatuated with the Godfather. He's italian so he finds pride in it. Every time he sits to watch it on T.V. he has to rediscover the characters and plot because he has never sat and watched the movies all the way through.

I do have a confession. My previous blog complained about stockings and my mother's decision to abolish them except for the grandchildren. Well. I woke up this morning with a filled stocking, along with my other 20-30 year-old siblings. I guess my comment of "Don't I get a Christmas, too" really got to her. So I enjoyed pulling out deoderant, toothpaste, and lufas out of my stocking this morning.

Minty fresh.

Now if you don't mind, I am going to go play Scrabble, watch some part of a movie, and eat until I explode.

Merry Christmas.

Broken, no stockings, and Josh Groban

This situation has worn itself out. Now, there's nothing left to make of it. I am left picking up the pieces of my dignity, wherever they may lie. If only letting go was as easy as it sounded, a lot would have been fixed by now. But perhaps the situation will keep arising until I deal with it. What a novel idea. Hmph.

Something happened today. Or rather, a feeling has flooded me. I am still not sure what it is. Tonight I am found kind of, well, broken I guess. I have never felt so stuck in a place where there is so little value given to my being. I was crushed, then pushed aside, used. And I know you don't know what I am talking about, and that is ok, maybe you can find some way to understand.

I am done with it. Lord, teach me how to move on.

Selah.

_________________________________________

Up there it sounded like I was throwing up on you, in a delicate way. Now to what I am doing right now: sitting with my hood on my head. Why I don't know. And Damien Rice's "Cannonball" has won to create the atmosphere. Mom is wrapping Christmas gifts in the other room, the rest of my household: asleep.

Thoughts on Christmas: It has become for the grandchildren. I feel bad because I am going to sound like a jealous aunt. But I am the youngest, let me complain. Sometime in the past few years, my siblings and I passed the years of gifts and magic. It began with the doing away of gifts, and the replacement of cards and cash. Which isn't that bad. But this year it went to the extreme of stockings going down strictly to the grandchildren, stockings. What's wrong with stockings? Except that they are filled with junk you end up throwing away anway. Ok, I get it, but still. Also my older sister and her husband are at his family's Christmas. The first Christmas without a sibling. Weird. More changes in life, this better slow down.

I find it interesting that lately it has become harder and harder to find music to fit my perfect mood. You know what I mean: browsing, no desperately searching rather, iTunes for music that fits the moment and will create a perfect atmosphere to your thoughts and feelings. The last 15 minutes have been difficult. I have gone from Damien Rice to well, I don't know who this is, then Dashboard.

The days I listen to Josh Groban are the most interesting. Because it's not that I am in a romantic mood necessarily when I do, although his voice is absolutely gorgeous, but it is soothing, and yet at the same time, stimulating. You listen to Josh Groban on days of precipitation. Snow and rain create the perfect invitation for Josh's tenorness to serenade my soul. I liked the way that sounded.

I will leave it at that.

It begins.

Hit the background music. Get comfortable. It's time to blog.

What does one say on a first blog? And what kind of word is blog anyway? It sounds like a bad word. Kind of like cod. Why would you want to eat cod? The name should make you nauseous.

There is an overwhelming sense of belonging as I enter into yet another community. Xanga, MySpace, Facebook, they have done me well. But it's time for the "The Blog." The real thing. At the same time, loneliness leaves me waiting for some sort of "WELCOME TO YOUR NEW ADDICTION" banner to pop up or confetti to explode out of the monitor. Although I am sure that when I am done here, I will find an E-mail labeled "Blog support" in my inbox, welcoming me into the blogger.com fam.

I wonder if anyone will ever know I am on here? Or read this nonetheless, but I am anxious to see how I unfold. Yes, how I unfold. The question of self-disclosure bewilders my mind: "How much do I expose myself on here?" Will I be a daily blogger, baring my soul through the keys? Will I give you a weekly update of what has happened in my life? Or will I simply put my thoughts out there in cyberspace, with the millions of other bloggers who are somehow searching for words as well?

I will leave this question unanswered for the time being. Right now, this is my nook; where my traveling thoughts and ponderings will find their way onto paper, God willing. And I, being determined as I am, am going to search for words, words that can deliver atleast a glimpse of what I mean to express. This is a challenge, you see. It has become my life's adventure to figure out how to wrap my mind around my thoughts, reflections, questions and make them tangible.

So I will call myself La Buscadora, the seeker, on the search for words.