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Into Me

Photographs must be taken and uploaded before I can write about The Most Fabulous Birthday Present Ever®; until then, I will discuss New Year’s Eve and my energetic orientation.

In the continuum of my favorite holidays, December 31 is at the absolute bottom because I hate societally mandated frivolity and noisemakers give me the heebie-jeebies. As someone who doesn’t do well at parties in normal circumstances, the addition of the above horrors is enough to throw me for a loop. I used to think it was weird that I would rather sit at home alone than face a jangly soiree, and worse, I used to be afraid that everyone else would think I was weird, but now I don’t care, and everyone else can ring in the new year by kissing my ass.*

While Rindy was here last week, we had a conversation about introversion and extroversion and common misconceptions about these states of being. Although most people are probably a combination of both, depending upon the situation, it is without question that I am solidly an introvert, as are Rob and Rindy. Introverted people are not necessarily shy, soft spoken, or averse to standing up for themselves, just as extroverts are not necessarily the life of the party. Rindy read an article that described these attributes as energetic orientations: extroverts gain energy from being with other people, and introverts gain energy from being alone. This was demonstrated in spades during our visit. While Rob, Rindy, and I get along wonderfully and had many good times together, our default positions were to retreat to separate corners of the house and email each other interesting web links. (When Rob and I are home alone, we do the same thing pretty much every evening after dinner, while Goblin Foo, an avowed extrovert, commutes from one to the other in desperate search of attention.)

I suppose, since we live in communities of people and not as hermits on inaccessible mountaintops, Americans consider extroversion “normal,” just as they consider heterosexuality and Christianity “normal,” and society is set up around those conventions. To reveal that you are not one of these things is enough to give pause. To be none of them has them reaching for the torches and pitchforks.

So all of this is to say that, while people may find me dull and misanthropic, I intend to stay home this New Year’s Eve and eat cheese and those tiny grape tomatoes I like so much. Along with that burst of energy I get from seclusion, those finger foods will fortify me on my quest to take over the world in 2007. Once I have completed that lofty goal, I will send almost every other human to go live on a distant continent while Goblin Foo and I stay around here and catch up on our web links.

Happy New Year.
*I was invited to go to a non-New Year’s party last night that I actually would have liked to attend if circumstances had not conspired against me, a fact that probably throws off the rest of my thesis, but anyone who thinks so is also invited to pucker up. Kissing David’s Ass: It’s Not Just for New Year’s Anymore!™

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Won’t You Guide My Slay Tonight?

This is why they made devil’s food cake for my birthday.

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Happy Returns

Today is my birthday. How horrifying. At least my blog comments are still broken, so there will be no annoying messages of cheer. One of the first birthdays I remember, I was about five and received a Cookie Monster watch with a blue band. I consulted it that night as I sat up in bed awaiting midnight, when Santa Claus would come clattering down the chimney, but when both of Cookie Monster’s hands pointed upward, they pointed at nothing but a broken dream. Oh yes.

The first thing I did when I woke up today was moisturize, which along with my extreme youth explains the velvet glow of my complexion.

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Modern Dilemma

Rob and I went to the mall tonight. I’m still trying to remember why. There was a Christmas horror show occurring in the main rotunda area. Music blasting from speakers accompanied a full choir of about a hundred festive carolers, all clapping and swaying in unison. On some numbers, a gospel-style soloist assaulted us with death-defying yowling.

Along the perimeter of the crowd stood a group of people dressed as (I kid you not) Superman, Captain Jack Sparrow, an elf, and other festive personalities. I have no idea how they were involved with the main event, but I can’t envision any way in which it could be good news.

Walking by, I asked myself, “Self, can you think of any instance in which you have seen large groups of non-Christian religionists making a spectacle of themselves in a shopping mall?”

“No,” said myself.

Let’s choose a group a random: Jewish people. When was the last time you saw a crowd of Jews clapping and swaying by the Food Court? Almost never. And Muslims? Maybe a little prayer toward Mecca every now and again, but Superman and an elf do not feel the need to put in an appearance. Wiccans? Animists? Athiests? Unitarians? All of them seem to have more sense than this.

I mean, I guess this bunch was harmless enough, and they seemed to be having a good time, which I would never begrudge anyone. They can sing until the cows come home for all I care, about Jesus or anything else. It just doesn’t make any sense to me, personally. To my mind, it’s like walking into a mall and finding a hundred people crooning about garlic or arch supports. Even if you were a big fan of garlic or arch supports, you might be a little puzzled.

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The Bore on Christmas

Rob and I went to the mall tonight. I’m still trying to remember why. There was a Christmas horror show occurring in the main rotunda area. Music blasting from speakers accompanied a full choir of about a hundred festive carolers, all clapping and swaying in unison. On some numbers, a gospel-style soloist assaulted us with death-defying yowling.

Along the perimeter of the crowd stood a group of people dressed as (I kid you not) Superman, Captain Jack Sparrow, an elf, and other festive personalities. I have no idea how they were involved with the main event, but I can’t envision any way in which it could be good news.
Walking by, I asked myself, “Self, can you think of any instance in which you have seen large groups of non-Christian religionists making a spectacle of themselves in a shopping mall?”

“No,” said myself.

Let’s choose a group a random: Jewish people. When was the last time you saw a crowd of Jews clapping and swaying by the Food Court? Almost never. And Muslims? Maybe a little prayer toward Mecca every now and again, but Superman and an elf do not feel the need to put in an appearance. Wiccans? Animists? Athiests? Unitarians? All of them seem to have more sense than this.

I mean, I guess this bunch was harmless enough, and they seemed to be having a good time, which I would never begrudge anyone. They can sing until the cows come home for all I care, about Jesus or anything else. It just doesn’t make any sense to me, personally. To my mind, it’s like walking into a mall and finding a hundred people crooning about garlic or arch supports. Even if you were a big fan of garlic or arch supports, you might be a little puzzled.

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Blue in Color but Not in Spirit

Dear Internet: Sorry, I forgot all about you. Just kidding, I would never forget you.

Just kidding, I forgot all about you.

How are you? I am fine.

I just called my health insurance company to ask a question, and their hold message is a chipper elf of a woman talking about how normal it is to be depressed at this time of year, and that I should contact my doctor if I have been depressed for more than two weeks. She made it sound so fun, but by some festive holiday miracle I haven’t been depressed at all. I’ve been too busy and preoccupied to be depressed. I’ve even been too busy and preoccupied to hate Christmas, which should really tell you something.

That is all.