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Welcome To My Home...
December 12, 2002The Most Wonderful Time I don't exactly represent the cheerful side of human nature. My idea of getting into the 'Christmas spirit' is playing the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack or listening to the Cynic Project's techno remix of "What Child is This?" But there's just something about Christmas time that can penetrate even my cynical nature. Deep inside, I know that I really want to love Christmas. It was cold last night. Southern California cold, but cold nonetheless. I was walking back to the dorms, looking at some of the haphazardly strung Christmas lights draped from various balconies, when this group of girls came walking by singing "Silent Night." My guess is that they were practicing for some sort of singing or choir class, but for the briefest moment I was transported into a wonderfully sentimental state of reminiscence, and I thought to myself, "Gee. Wouldn't it be neat if people just went around singing Christmas carols this time of year?" It could be like in all those atoundingly sappy Christmas movies where they've got groups of carollers standing at every street corner. Then the moment passed, and I remembered that I don't even like Christmas carols. Maybe it's the idealized representation of Christmas that I love. The reality of the situation is that if caroling ever did catch on, it would be a veritable nightmare, with all the local Girl Scout troops bouncing around singing "Frosty The Snowman." Hollywood seems to think that every neighborhood houses an entire professional choral group. And we love them for it. But perhaps the problem isn't simply that people generally suck at singing. After all, It was not really the song that instilled my heart with the power of Christmas. Nor was it the singers. Or the lights, or the cold, or any other single influence. Rather, it was the moment. It was my memories recalled by that specific combination of sensations. That moment brought back to me a time that has long since passed, and I saw myself as I once was. My childhood hopes and ambitions came flooding back to me at once; I smelled sweet rolls and cookies baking in the oven; I was filled with the excitement I felt as a child as I lay awake in bed wondering what treasures Santa would bring. That is what Christmas is: memories. We play the songs; we continue traditions; we string lights from our houses; we give gifts. We do all of it to create memories. Then we do it all again to recall them. The problem is that people have become so overwhelmed with these traditions that they forget to remember. Every radio station in the country has been playing 24-hour Christmas music since mid October. The stores start shoving santa hats in our faces when we're still looking for a good pair of shorts. You can't even go out to buy a binder and a freaking 3-hole punch without waiting forty-five minutes to pay for the darn things - all the while listening to those infernal Christmas songs that the radio has been repeating for the last three months. Traffic is horrible. People line up at stores in the middle of the night and then attack each other when they can't buy the toy they want. People start thinking that they need to buy gifts for others instead of realizing they would like to. Christmas has become an obligation - a chore. By the time Christmas actually arrives, people are so sick of it that the last thing they want to do is remember. I would never consider dismissing holiday traditions. If I've made any sense thus far, you should realize that I, as much as anyone, consider such traditions to be fundamental to the holidays. Rather, I suggest taking a second to consider why these traditions exist. And I'm not just talking about religious aspects, here, because no matter how much you'd like to deny it, we all know that Christmas has grown far beyond that. But know that Christmas is a collection of your own memories. Christmas is that indescribable feeling you get when you hear carollers on a cold December night. Christmas is what you make it. So think about why you're waiting in a two-hour line to buy that perfect gift. Let yourself Remember your motives. And then realize that you want to be there. ![]()
December 12, 2002Vitals I'm coming home this weekend - mainly for family stuff. I'll be in on Friday afternoon, and I'll be leaving again Monday afternoon. I've got math on Tuesday, history on Wednesday, and music on Thursday. Speech is a take-home final. Then I'll be back home either Thursday night or Friday afternoon, where I will remain for the duration of winter break. Right now, I've got a whole bunch of stuff that I had kind of wanted to get done (some more pressing than others, if you get my gist). This stuff, to put it as vaguely as possible, is taking me a great deal longer than I had anticipated. I hinted the other day that there was another digital painting on the horizon. I had hoped to have that finished by this weekend, because, quite frankly, I'm getting sick of it, but that is obviously not going to happen. The thing is taking me freaking forever, and I'm not even liking how it's turning out. Not that any of you care, but that project has been regretably put on hold indefinitely. Now I can work on getting all that other stuff done before the... erhm... deadline. ![]()
December 13, 2002Goody I'm back with some links. Bet you didn't know there was a Google blog. I actually found it while looking at some of Google's newer features: Including a very cool autopilot Google viewer, their developing product search, Froogle, and the 2002 end of year report, which is actually quite interesting to look through. A new X-Men 2 teaser has been released. Okay. So Moore's law can't continue indefinitely with our current technology. As painful as it is to hear, we all saw that one coming. But what I want to know is where are those molecular based computers we heard about back in 2000? Shouldn't there be some sort of breakthrough in computing technology sometime soon? ![]() |
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