I'm making a conscious decision to stock-pile my home necessities before December 1st of next year pokes it's fat, capitalistic head out - and devours every ounce of humanity left in me. It seems that I'm the only one that LOATHES the holiday season in my family. Even my husband likes to partake in the madness. I thought I had picked a good one, too. Baaaha! Between trying to grocery shop, having to deal with 4 different sets of in-law "get-togethers", and the amount of crap that was given to my 20 month old son... I've decided that the holidays are a load of bullshit that I don't need. Maybe I'm just jealous that I hadn't thought of an ingenious scheme to instigate compulsive buying in the masses. On second thought, I think I'm going to dress up as a homeless chick and sit outside of one of these "fine" establishments of spending. I'll use the money earned to buy t-shirts that read, "The Christmas Spirit is a Money-Grubbing Whore," and hand them out for free. The irony would make me all warm and fuzzy on the inside... I know you want to say it, so do it. Negative Nancy. Debbie Downer. Scrooge. Sexy. Wait, what? Nevermind.

The plan was flawless, genius, and all...mine Did you honestly not know what was in store for our lives? We're all so foolishly, selfishly playing the victim. Playing our victims. But "fate" is in my hands, as it's been this entire time. ...Have you lost your fucking mind? So say goodnight, restless eyes. Sad to say I could see this coming. Your whirlwind of brilliant color, now evanesced into obscurity. You wouldn't have forgiven me, had I told you everything. Forcing myself into a story that clearly wasn't mine. ...Have I lost my fucking mind? Prententious to say I know what you go through. A little jealous that it chose you. And if I hadn't seen your expressionless face, this wouldn't be real in the first place. ...Have we lost our fucking minds? ...Have we created factitious souls? ...Do we inhale each others' lives in our own black holes?

I really need one. However, it's freezing outside and I decided to wear a pencil skirt with thigh-highs. Before I sound ditzy, let me clarify that it was close to 70 degrees when I left for work. And no, I don't have the fucking Weather Channel or a nifty iPhone. I'm too poor for that. Why couldn't I be a trust-fund baby? Then again, why do I keep smoking cigarettes? Now I have three problems to deal with. I kind of like this journal business. No one knows about it and I can spout all sorts of nonsense from my fingertips. Poops and cocks. I pride on being able to entertain myself in this empty building. Well, off to commit a sluggish suicide, or perhaps frostbite.

I'm not a religious person by any means. In fact, the whole topic clouds my thinking patterns, and I don't like that at all. The one thing I remember my semi-religious grandmother telling me was the "Serenity Prayer." To accept the things I cannot change, have the courage to change the things I can, and have the wisdom to know the difference...or something to that affect. Simple as that may sound, I can't quite apply it to my every day difficulties. It seems the only way to attain "serenity" according to this prayer is to first go through a ton of turmoil. You wouldn't have the wisdom to know the difference between the first two unless you have countless experiences in which you were, well, dead wrong. That doesn't seem like something you should be praying for. "Please God, put me through some terrible experiences so that I may be closer to serenity!" I'm pretty sure those experiences will come along whether you are praying to someone for them or not. I'm going a little off-course from what is actually bothering me. Be forewarned, this isn't an exciting story about changing the world. This is actually a quite boring story of how to deal with people that I care about enough to have in my immediate life. Pretty selfish stuff, here. I'm dealing with a sensitive situation of being friends with two people that are in a bad relationship together. The female is self-absorbed, a tad controlling, and extremely emotional with one or two freak-out sessions a day(something that she attributes to her mother dying when she was only four). The male is also self-absorbed (as we all are), but to a point where he manipulates feelings and surroundings, has an underlying notion that he has everything figured out, and is a border-line insomniac (which means he has time to overthink just about everything). She's a painter. He's a musician. They both drink. You see where this is headed, right? Right. On to the positive things for a moment. The female has a great sense of humor, is creative, has a work ethic, loves to have fun (mainly to run away from whatever she's dealing with introspectively), and is a loyal companion to the male. The male has quite an ear for music, tends to not be too serious (a good and bad thing), and can have long conversations about anything you want to. It's easy to see why they once liked each other. Seeing the personalities clash, however, is a hard thing to witness. Seeing how much they hurt one another back and forth, day after day, makes me just as sad as they are. After the smoke clears, the only logical crying shoulder is my own. I want to help, I do. I just can't point the fingers that they want me to. I want to disappear from them entirely, but they would only rip each other into pieces with blame. Now I'm going back to the "Serenity Prayer". I don't have to accept what they're doing. They're turning themselves bitter and lonely for no reason other than stubborness. I could change things by forcing them to see themselves for what they are, the aesthetic and the rancidly ugly. That wouldn't bring me any serenity. That would make us all miserable, because bringing ignorance to light never goes well. I don't think I will get the same results by accepting things that I fear, changing only the things that I want to, and having the ignorance to be comfortable. I'm driving myself as crazy as they are. Fuck.

I don't listen to the radio very often, and for good reason. I was reminded of that reason on the way to work today. I mistakenly left my CD's on my kitchen table after cleaning my car out the evening before. "Let's check out the radio," I thought, as a last resort to break the silence. After about 10 minutes, I just turned it right back off and decided that car mufflers and squeaky brakes were a slightly better alternative. I was absolutely appalled by the ignorance beaming out of my car speakers! Three songs in a row, and all I heard was, "I'm not in love, but the sex is good," "She likes to shake her ass," and "hey, you're a crazy bitch." What in the hell? Does anyone know how to write song lyrics anymore? Or does all music today aim toward the demographic of the completely trashed? I love music very much. It's who I am, it's what I do. I would like to make music into a profession in the future, but it's extremely disheartening to realize that not many people make it on musicianship and poetry as they do with vulgarity and power chords. And these people make BANK off of mindlessness. I'm not some puritan freak, either. Talk about sex and drugs, I don't care. Just do it with some respect for yourself, and music in general. You know who you are, you mainstream filth. LOL, I'm finished now. Have a good one!