Sorrow and Thanks

Why does it seem that everyone I know has had their father pass away recently? It really is uncanny. My heart goes out to you all, Becky, Dennis, Rich and Dwight, Windy, A.J., et al. The whole experience has just seemed to top off what has been a rather somber holiday season for me.

I do want to thank two people in particular, Andrea and Karen, for making x-mas the best it can be. You two are awesome and I don’t know what I would do without you around.

It feels like a good time for letting go. I am not sure of what. I know I just want to “let go.”

Merry Christmas and Fuck You, Too

I feel so sick today. I am not sure what is wrong with me; it could be authentic illness from the cold weather or it could be my body recovering from the weekend. Either way, I am just not myself. Also, I have cried three times for no reason. I fear that this is the way I will feel the rest of my life. I’m also angry and jealous of people who have great families. Fuck you. Really.

I’m taking Amos to the vet tomorrow for some long over due shots and some basic TLC. Can the vet confiscate your pet if he thinks you haven’t been taking good care of it? Just curious. I bought his a flashy new collar today and he has an appointment at the beauty parlor this Friday. Furthermore, I am finally getting him some dental work in the hopes that will clear up some, if not all, of the HORRIBLE dog breath. Of course with my luck, I will spend all this money on him and he will kill over dead or get hit by a car next week.

X-mas is Sunday. I am ignoring it. This is no small feat considering where I am working every night this week, the annals of A Christmas Carol at the Alley Theatre (I tried spelling annals as anals but it, but spell check wouldn’t let me even though I knew I wanted it to be anals). I fucking dare someone to come up to the desk tonight and ask me a question. Bring it, BITCHES!

Eat my blog.

So I am at the Alley, again. Tonight there was no choir. Tonight we had a middle school all string orchestra. Now, I hate to make fun of children (that’s not exactly true, I kind of love it), BUT, the whole thing sounded like one long cat fight. Or maybe not a fight, maybe it was that sound cats make when they are getting busy, you know what I’m talking about. Basically, when cats have sex they sound like “Away in a Manger” as performed by the tone deaf middle school student I just suffered through.

Tomorrow, I make my return to Blanco. Those of you who have been keeping up with my blog for the past year may remember the events around last New Year’s Eve. I can’t wait, it should be lots of fun and I will try to keep you all posted on the merriment.

Seriously, I am really ready for this year to be over with. This one has been tough for me. The holiday season is always tough for me. I seem to turn into this other person in December. I start have manic episodes and most things usually end horribly for me in December. I feel very detached from everyone. I feel very alone.

Enough of that. January can’t come soon enough.

God Bless Us, One and All!!

Tis the season, at the Alley Theatre, where they roll out Christmas Carol to the delight of many uneducated, rude, suburban, boring, easily-amused theatre-goers. For the rest of us, it is hell.

I had forgotten how many people I hate see Christmas Carol. I don’t know them personally but they know who they are.

First, there are the choirs that come from surrounding schools to fancy us with their incredible singing abilities and spread Christmas joy like a jackhammer to my skull. Actually, in all fairness, the fist time is nice. The second night is mildly pleasant. From there, my experiences with the death choirs slide off in scale until eventually, on December 26, the final choir comes in some vain attempt to sing carols the day after X-mas and you watch weary eyed people, people who have by this time had enough of the holidays as I have, stare at them with the same kind of Marilyn Manson hate that I have had, well, by tonight.

Next, come the families. You know who I am talking about: hordes of snot-rubbing children, grannys is wheelchairs, overly dressed mom in their green and red sweaters. The kind of people that X-mas has vomited on and someone forgot to clean up the mess. Every once in a while, I catch the eye of some college age person home for the holidays and obviously dragged here by said family. We look at each other for that moment; each with the same amount of pity. As by ESP, I can hear a faint, “Please kill me.”

I can’t forget about the company x-mas parties. What crazy fuck comes up with the idea to have their company x-mas party at the Alley and see Christmas Carol? I don’t want to discourage the Alley from any revenue, but ECK! People who come here for these parties seem to think that they own the place; they own the night. Woo Hoo, PARTY!! Really? You’re at the Alley, drunkboy. How great can your life be?

I must really have my Scrooge hat on tonight! Damn! I just referenced the damn show. Bah Humbug!

Much of my life, too much, was lived to please others. I forced myself into molds fashioned for me by society. I lost touch with what and who I really was. I lived a life of self-destruction, sometimes resulting in the destruction of other lives I touched. I paid a great price for having this illness. A person with a college education certainly should have some kind of confidence and credibility, but I earned nothing to talk about, and was part of the poor and disrespected. It was a difficult and painful place to be, one that was certainly not my intention, or because of any carelessness on my part; just a lot of unpleasant circumstances; a very humbling experience. But because of this, I discovered something very exciting about life. I realize that the object of living is not to live forever. We all eventually die. And also, that we can’t take it with us. We don’t take our money, clothes, labels, and prestige with us. But I’ve discovered something we do take with us. I believe that when we get beyond this life, we will be clothed in who we are in our hearts and our minds. I plan to be fully dressed; not nude, stripped, and foolish like those who focus on material things. The most important things in life are not things.

-Marcia Kyle Townsend (7/27/54-12/01/94)