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.

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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!