I am not a Christian, but I still celebrate Christmas.

To me, Christmas isn’t about a religion. It’s about giving. The most rewarding feeling is watching the people I love open the gifts I have carefully chosen for them. I love watching their smiles spread across their faces, I love watching their eyes light up. (Getting gifts is nice too

It’s about family. A lot of times, the only time my immediate extended families get together are during the holidays. There are other random times throughout the year we get together, but Christmas is the best. Our times together are always very loud. There are loud people, and everyone else trying to talk over the loud people. There’s usually several conversations happening at once. It’s mostly drama-free in front of the scenes. Sometimes there’s underlying tension, but for the most part it’s pleasant.

It’s about good times..remembering happy times, and creating new ones.

This is what Christmas is all about.

It isn’t about the birth of Christ, because it’s not his real birthday.

I celebrate Christmas because my family celebrates Christmas. And that’s what matters.

—

Going to get ready now to go to my grandpa’s house. I’ll cruise around Xanga when I’m done getting ready =]

So, due to the storm, Christmas is cancelled. For my dad’s side of the family, anyway. Who knows if we are going to get together at all =[

Hopefully I can make it to my grandpa’s house tomorrow night for that Christmas.

In case you don’t know, a winter storm is not like a summer storm. In the summer, a thunderstorm usually only lasts an hour. If it’s severe, the storm can whip through in a matter of minutes. If it’s a slow moving thunderstorm, they can last a couple hours. You can have a series of storms that can last all day.

But a winter storm can, and usually does, last for days. This one started today, and is supposed to go until Friday. It’s also supposed to snow on Saturday and Monday morning, but not storm conditions. We are supposed to get a foot to a foot and a half of snow. Something like that.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!!!! Love you!

2 days until I start my new job full time!!! I’m excited, obviously.

2 days and then I have 11 days off.

2 days until Christmas Eve.

I don’t have time to blog, I slept too late and I have to get ready for work. I’ll try to catch you guys later =]

Also, thanks for my Santa Hat, Beth, I love it!!

Based on the comments on my last post and what I know about the people, it would seem that the people who are truly broken agree with me and what I said. People who have never been truly broken say that we can fix ourselves with hard work.

Could you please let me know if my assessment is correct?

There were some people that said the broken people can find a sense of peace in our broken world, which I agree with.

In other news, I had a heart attack today.

I was on a road where the speed limit was 50, and I was actually going 50. I was in the right lane, and someone pulled out in front of me, literally! On a road that could very well be icy!! I stomped on my breaks, because, really, what else can you do?? I couldn’t swerve, because there was no where to swerve to (the left lane had a huge dump truck in it). I was so terrified that my car would hit an ice patch and slide right into her back end. My heart was beating too fast for at least 20 minutes after it happened, and I was shaky. That was also the first time I ever laid on the horn while driving. If I would have hit her going 50, that would have been a VERY bad accident. I would be in the hospital, probably. Thankfully, I did not hit a patch of ice, and I am safe.

What kind of a person does that?! I’m still freaking out just THINKING about it =[

The Dead Girl, 2006. Brittany Murphy, Toni Collette, Giovanni Ribisi.

A woman finds a dead girl on her mother’s property. She lives with her mother, takes care of her. The man that works at the grocery store asks her out. She dyes her hair light reddish brown and puts lipstick on. Her mother says that she looks like a two dollar hooker and cruelly laughs. She throws milk in her daughter’s face and calls her a whore. The glass is broken in her hand. On her date with the man, they talk about serial killers. They stop and they are in the dark, the headlights from the car illuminating them. She doesn’t look at him. He asks her if she wants to kiss him. He asks her if he needs to tie her up. She undoes his belt, and he wraps it around her wrists. They get in the back seat of the car and he says he can’t do it like that. “You just layin’ there, like you want me to rape you!” “Okay!” She says. “Okay, you want me to rape you?”

—

We are broken people. We look for broken relationships. We think we want something different this time, but it’s not the truth. Because even if they do not hurt us, we hurt ourselves. We always find a way to hurt ourselves. That’s the way broken people are. We are the broken fucking china dolls in the attic no one thinks of. We have cracks in our tough facade. You think we are so tough. The truth is, we are more fragile than you think. Pick us up, and we will crumble.

The broken people sometimes think they want it better. They are only lying to themselves. Soon they come back to the attic, back to the rest of us broken people. We sip our tea from broken tea cups, and set them down on cracked china. We welcome back the broken people that wander. We brush the tears from their fragile cheeks and give them a broken tea cup, which they set down on cracked china, their cracked smiles once again on painted lips.

Broken people stay broken.

Because that’s all we fucking know.

My sister’s cat, Bubba. He is very fat.

Civilizations and people have risen and fallen since the beginning of time. Their survival depends on their unity. A people will last longer if they think as one, fight as one, die as one. If there is discord, a divide in the people, the people will fail.

A kingdom only survived if their soldiers fought as one mind. If not, they were desecrated. Their homes were burned. Their women and children were murdered, with no mercy. Slaves were taken and the city left to smolder in ashes. This was the way of life.

What is so different now? The way we fight our wars?

People are still left broken. Cities still smolder. Women and children are still murdered. The slaves are the people who are imprisoned. We just call them by a different name: POWs.

Where is the evolution here?

People are still fighting, they are still starting wars. Are they really so much more sophisticated? War is still dirty, no matter how it’s fought. People are still thinking the same way. What’s really changed in the thousands of years of civilizations?

The only evolution I see is technology.

I do not really know how to begin this letter. First, you are my best friend. Where would I be without you?

I shamefully admit that I have taken our relationship for granted in the past. For this, I apologize. What were you to me when I found you? An amusement? I’m not so sure anymore. There were times I neglected you. Days and months passed and I did not visit. How selfish was I? I have taken so much from you, but what have I given?

On these pages I have written words. But what do they mean? Are they important, my words? I haven’t even bared my soul to you, Xanga; you don’t even know all of me. No one in the world knows all of me, yet you know the most of me of anyone else in the world. You have been my rock for so long. When I can’t remember my own life, you remind me. You tell me the words I have written and what I have experienced. Yet, you don’t know all of my secrets. Things that remain in my mind, yet I have never spoken them aloud or wrote them down. Oh, how I wish I could rid my chest of these burdens.

Xanga, you have given me the best gift in the world: Xanga Friends that mean everything to me. Where would I be if I did not have these Xanga Friends? They are some of the sweetest people in the entire world. People I may never meet, but they are better friends than anyone could ask for. Just like you, Xanga, most of them don’t judge me. They laugh with me, cry with me, are angry with me. They *hug* me. But, Xanga, more times then I can count, I wish with those *hugs* that a pair of arms could reach through my computer screen and embrace me, hold me.

I learn with my Xanga Friends, and follow their memories, one day at a time. Most of the time I miss an entry or two to their lives, but I try the best I can. I know you see everything, Xanga, because you are the best. I promise I will do better with our relationship. I will do my best.

For now, I want to read something that touches my heart and soul, Xanga. Maybe Anne Sexton’s biography will help me. Her poetry rips my soul apart. I wish I could have helped her put hers back together. Or maybe Alice Sebold’s memoir of her rape can help me get past mine. Maybe. I hope this letter finds you well, Xanga.

Love,
crazy2love

P.S. Is it too much to admit that I live vicariously through your dreams?

(I may or may not be around tonight. I want to read some tonight.)

Huh?!

Spending HOURS of my valuable goddamn time to train someone, then the fucker ends up not working out. FUCK YOU.

Damnit, I am so sick of unappreciative losers working for me. You would think in this economy where it’s still hard finding a job that you would want to do a good fucking job so you don’t end up unemployed again. I am sick of lazy people who take having a job for granted. If the fucker shows up today, it’s his last day. Unfortunately, we are too short handed right now to turn off his security badge, so if he’s here today we need him to work. Otherwise, he would be done.

I have 2, possibly 3 new people starting on Monday. I fucking hope these people work out. Do you know how managers talk about their employees?? Sometimes it’s not pretty, especially if you don’t do a good job. So pay attention to what you’re doing and focus. Don’t make a lot of mistakes. That’s only some of what we talk about.

UGHHHHHHH.

Anyway, in other news, with all the overtime I had last week I paid one of my credit cards off, and it feels fucking amazing. I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful (major points to anyone who gets that reference )

Sorry for not being around lately again, work is a bitch =[

I’ll try and cruse around before I have to leave for work…

You ever try looking for the dry Parmesan cheese at the grocery store? You know, the kind in the green bottle?!

YOU CAN’T EVER FUCKING FIND IT!!!!!!

You wander up and down the aisles at the grocery store, looking. Up and down the aisles. Until you waste so much time you’re about to give up!!! THEN you find in some weird fucking spot!!! Shouldn’t it be with the other damn condiments?? GRR.

Unless you know your grocery store by now, and can go to the spot in .5 seconds.

But whatever. It’s still in a weird spot.

Recipe for Tequila Berry Salad (makes a lot…we make it every time the family gets together):

Approximately 48oz of salad (I usually get the lettuce with carrots and red onions)
1 cup of buttermilk
1 cup of parmesan cheese (the dry kind)
1 cup of REAL mayo
1 cup of sugar
2 bottles of the fake bacon bits
1 cup of chopped cauliflower

Mix everything together in a large mixing bowl. You can test to see if you have the proper bowl size by plopping in the bags of lettuce If you are pre-mixing anything, don’t add the buttermilk and mayo until serving time, or else the lettuce will wilt and it won’t taste good =] It’s pretty delicious, and obviously, you don’t need any dressing for this salad.