Oh, man it's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm still here, but in the mean time old houses are kryptonite to Comcast. The first endeavor aimed at installing the internet was foiled by a lazy technician and today's was successful in a limited way. I'm in my living room with the keyboard on my lap, which is not exactly how this was to go. Let's just say that if the installation effort to be continued on new years eve is foiled I have either a wireless network in my future on a lot of time in the attic with fish tape.
I really wanted to get the wireless network up today, but I lost a bit of an arguement about it's cost. I refuse to get all sour and accusatory here. The Bucket and I must show a united front. I will say that it makes me lonely and sad when I don't feel I have a vote on things. But this stuff is not for here and not to be resolved any time before the fucking holidays. Most of the bad feeling is all the time lost already setting up the computer and how that time just seems unappreciated. I think I've been working pretty hard through feeling pretty shitty and I wanted to spend another hour and a half moving the computer (temporarily) like I want an enema.One step up and two steps back.
Should some curiosity need sating, my house is great. I don't know what to do with all this space. The flu and the weather and my life keeps getting in the way of completing the move, but we're a little closer daily. The walls demand paint and furniture is definately in our cards. I love life here with Cheryl and the dogs are happy as pigs in poop. I love the yard and looking out into the street and knowing that this is ours.
Are you prepared for this to get long? I'll make my best efforts at brevity, but promises are not a suit I like to try on all that much.
The biggest thing I get in my head this time of year is the question of whether or not I'm a decent human being. It's damn hard to feel all squishy soft about yourself when the holidays sit on your chest and fart. I don't believe any of this crap. I don't believe all the mythology around this time of year and I don't like how shitty every one behaves to each other. Apparently Santa doesn't watch the mall. Standing in line to spend money that we're extorted into spending to remind people we love that we love them when they really aught to know. It seems that the woman in front of me is always angry and needs a manager. I do my best to remembert that it's not the clerk's fault that the line is long or the item out of stock, but I'm kinda alone on that one. Merry Fucking Christmas, let's all yell at some college kid on break.
Anyway, there's a timbre in the air that if you hate christmas you're a piece of shit. Everyone loves Christmas, right? Except Kev who thinks that all of these stupid holidays are the hobgoblins of tiny minds. If you've waited til the end of December to say or do a kind thing for me I'd much rather you shut up and fuck off. Where were you for the last 364 days? And, like I said, I think the christmas story is a harmful message.
God so loved us that he sent his only son to die for us and save us from the shitty thing that we inherently are. If you loved us so much why not use a bit more dear material. Oh and the free will thing...I guess I don't buy that either. It's easy for everyone with a full tummy to point, but I'll tell you now with my blood sugar raging in the 600's and and the thirst coming on from that I'd sell my dogs for a jug of water. Such belief in freedom is a luxury, to me. Between the pressures put on us from both mores and biological needs, any freedom you really have is window dressing.
So, I'm a prick. I know it, somebody out there thinks I'm reprehensible for being offended by their god. That god that thinks I need saving and has the moral perch to make all these rules without empathy. My god likes me and didn't send anyone in after me. He doesn't look at me as stained by original sin or any other polite way of saying that I'm a piece of shit who needs to hold someone's hand to be decent. He doesn't feel that I need a codified and childish set of commandments to figure out how to be kind and he does not need another fucking house. You all keep dumping your cash into churches and spending your time at some designated meeting point for a being you feel omniscient. I'll keep finding him in the actions of those who told me they loved me all year and showed up to help me move.
See, It's not so easy to think I'm a decent person. All I see is the guy who fails his friends and then on top of it turns his back on the safety net of redemption. If I'm a stained piece of poo, I'm also without the feel good hope of being better in an afterlife. This is it, to me, and any kindness I fail on I have to own. And on top of that I hate holidays and Thomas Kincaide (sic) and people who drive around looking for the close parking space. I'm just impatient with all of this and sick of trying to find a way to be a good guy without having to not say when you're being an asshole. Or admitting I'm one. And I am. A lot. But I also like a lot about me and my hope for next year is that I don't spend so much time worrying and I do more about it.
Whatever kind of person I am beneath all this cranky and this effort at honest, I love y'all and you can have my truck for the afternoon if you need it. I'm trying. If I fail to make heaven I hope I make you smile a little here.