Friday, December 27th, 2013

Now that Christmas is over, I can go on being slightly less miserable. Wednesday night held an impromptu trip to one of the few open restaurants around, 20 minutes north of the Fields. The others were jammed with cars of what I assume to be early travelers or people trying to escape from their relatives. I had some beer in front of a searing HVAC vent while watching the Americans trounce the Canadians 5 to 1 in hockey. Yeah, that was amusing.

I also happened to have light conversation with a man from the California/Oregon area. He was a happy fellow, touting the virtues of craft beer his employer sold down the road. I welcomed the conversation though. He was enthusiastic to escape his roommate’s family, and I was fond of discussing something that didn’t involve reminiscing about family affairs before I was born. Christmas Eve dinner is really for my parents and their siblings. It’s a stale situation for the likes of me.

January’s fast approaching, and aside from getting another year older, it’s going to herald reporting season with the various Federal, state, and local governments. I’ll churn out more paperwork than I do in six months to appease the self-righteous bureaucrats who think preparing even more will do a world of good. It won’t though. Cheater’s gonna cheat.

No apologies here, as an accountant, the Internal Revenue Code needs an overhaul. Expecting people to file their own taxes appropriately has produced abysmal results. The filer is so overwhelmed, they don’t care how it gets done as long as the government agencies are happy. They are absolutely lost when it comes to reading their own 1040. Been there, done that. The individual shouldn’t have to purchase software or go to an HR Block-type establishment to complete this. This tax code is getting too complicated for its own good. Just set a tax rate, have the employer send a reconciliation to the IRS, and be done with it.

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Sunday, December 8th, 2013

Snow is not my enemy. I may have an aversion to the powdery, white precipitation but no real disdain. Ice, however, is my sworn nemesis as it makes the land slick with a Devilish sheen. Its only purpose is to frustrate any plans to leave the house, as my habitual affliction of cabin fever flares up like a match head. I do get lonely, and in such a frigid territory as the fields, Winter only makes it worse. The Christmas season doubly so. With my tongue-possibly-placed-in-my-cheek, there was a suggestion of a bottle of Jack Daniels and circus acrobatics on an overpass Christmas Day.

Much to my dismay, I only drive 300 feet to notice the freezing drizzle making command of my vehicle uncertain. Like a sensible person, I return to the house. I’ve heard two dispatches for emergency vehicles in the last hour. Some aren’t so sensible. Falcor skated in an unannounced Ice Capades of terror and sadness, as I creep home only being out for a mere five minutes. Tonight could have been the night I fell into a hilarious romantic comedy with the person others always say I would find. Frankly, if you know the name and the whereabouts of this woman, I demand you stop holding out on me. This isn’t the Price is Right; I’m not playing Cliffhangers again.

All wasn’t totally lost, as I kept busy with interior maintenance. Most of the day’s activities included the dismantling of the remnants of a finished basement, which had outlived its useful life several decades ago. Some basements were made for fun; mine was not. Utility basements should not be pushed into an awful career choice such as host or entertainer. It can only lead to the metaphorical unemployment line. Stand-up philosopher. Brilliant!

As for my writing, well, this is the first time in a week I’ve tried to put anything down. My blog is fancied a journal of sorts, as I peck away at something constructive, but I do want to write something a little more accessible. From my end, it’s to wonder how I relate to the rest of the world. The best I could ever deduce is to write fiction, as cliche as that sounds. What else does a single guy in the middle of a soulless land have to offer? However, ideas don’t always come to me in the vivid form I enjoy. That is to say they arrive from some ethereal plane in which I often think, “that would be fantastic!” Mood, life, and people often buffet me and consume my thoughts for days on end. That is where nothing gets done. I can definitely see why people enjoy muses.

Forget the dime, anyone spare a thought? Ha!

End of November

The end of the month comes so quickly anymore. It was just Thanksgiving two days ago. The Christmas tree is being put up in sections. Most of the work is done, except for the bulbs. I have to stop frequently, not because of physical exhaustion, but that of mental. I want it up, for better or worse. There is a large debate on whether I should string up the bushes in the front yard. It’ll only be a matter of weeks before I take them down anyway.

Another friend is engaged as of last Tuesday. I’m happy for them both, or as much as a detached third-party can be. There’s something I’m lacking to truly feel the vicarious warmth of others sharing milestone moments. It’s hard to explain, but the emptiness suggests I wasn’t built to be warm… or aware of relationships, I suppose. There’s a part of me that says “you will feel it, when you find it.” That’s not helping.

It has been hard writing stories as of late. There has been a lot of emotional tumult and thought over the past few weeks. Sometimes, I wonder about my existence too much. From what I’ve experienced and what I’ve heard, people are way too quick to give flimsy advice when I discuss it. There is never anything quick and dirty that will help someone out of a hole. There may be an element of customization missing, and above all teamwork. Some people just need to put the money where their mouths are.

With all the rumination of my faults, I’ve come to a startling conclusion. I hesitate to write much further on it, as it gets very personal. I can also see it being too honest for polite company. You’re all polite company, correct? Sure, you are. However, I will say the revelation has had quite the helping hand in my concerns about life. I had to learn all this the hard way.

Not Feelin’ It (yeah, yeah, “that’s what she said”)

An·he·do·nia (n) – a psychological condition characterized by inability to experience pleasure in normally pleasurable acts.

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Anhedonia is the best way to describe my reception to such holidays as Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. There is no pleasure in such days, and for Halloween in particular a long tradition of being so. I hate costumes, which is probably why I don’t act nor do I beg for food. What we call “trick or treat” night is also called “beggars’ night” in other parts of the country. I think that more accurate.

People are different, and I tolerate it as much as I think reasonable, but it’s getting to the “Christmas” level of crazy. Either I’m comfortable being myself, or there’s something I’m not seeing. It all seems like escapism to me. There is a level of fantasy involved, but couldn’t someone be that eccentric in their head?

In any event, this is all the attention I’ll give the overblown holiday. While others may be pounding the Halloween spirit right into you, I’ll be dark all year ’round. It’s much less stress if done at lower levels anyway.

…and now, MUPPETS!