I've moved this blog to a new location, as Word Press has more features and control options than blogger does. You can find a blog about common things at http://blogaboutcommonthings.wordpress.com/. My schedule is still Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, with today's blog in the works. I hope you enjoy the new location and layout, bigger and better things are in store.
Thanks for your continued readership and/or bookmarking, it means quite a bit to know that others enjoy my hobby as much as I do.
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter Bunny's Severed Head
We all fear the living dead, yet the vast majority of all religion is based on the notion of life after death. Perhaps it's best to assume that undeath is ultimately the afterlife.
Christians possibly have it the worst off. Their saviour is glorified because he became a zombie. The little known fact about Jesus is that he was considered merciful only because he refused to eat brains. That's why he returned for such a short time before perishing again.
We are not afraid of zombies because they want to kill us. We are not afraid of them because they are nearly unstoppable. We are not even afraid because we do not understand them. We are afraid of zombies because - in a sense - they are a higher level of being than humans. We are afraid of them because we know they're better than us. We were supposedly made in God's image, but zombies were modeled after his son. Therefore, we must all die and come back once more to truly embrace a love for Christ.
...this would all be true, if any of the subjects discussed ever existed.
If you celebrate Easter today, or passover still, or whatever else is around this time of year, then I hope it's happy and full of life.
Christians possibly have it the worst off. Their saviour is glorified because he became a zombie. The little known fact about Jesus is that he was considered merciful only because he refused to eat brains. That's why he returned for such a short time before perishing again.
We are not afraid of zombies because they want to kill us. We are not afraid of them because they are nearly unstoppable. We are not even afraid because we do not understand them. We are afraid of zombies because - in a sense - they are a higher level of being than humans. We are afraid of them because we know they're better than us. We were supposedly made in God's image, but zombies were modeled after his son. Therefore, we must all die and come back once more to truly embrace a love for Christ.
...this would all be true, if any of the subjects discussed ever existed.
If you celebrate Easter today, or passover still, or whatever else is around this time of year, then I hope it's happy and full of life.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Spring Breaking Walls
"The concept of a 'Spring Break' has always fascinated me, even if it's usually just an excuse for people to get drunk and take their clothes off. I've never celebrated in such a way, though taking my clothes off is always a good idea. I've opted almost universally to stay in the area for the break, with rare exceptions when I was younger to go upstate with my family. I hated those times."
I search offhandedly for my bag of gummy bears.
"Really, if I'm going to have a week and a half off from my classes and work, do you expect me to go do something I won't remember after? Or wake up with an infestation of crab-mites? Or find out that the person in the bed with me looks much less attractive and suddenly more manly than she did when I was drunk? There's no point to it."
Where the fuck are my gummy bears? I ignore it, and keep typing.
"If I wanted that kind of nonsense, I could do it on a weekend and have significantly less memory loss. How many college students do that on a daily basis anyway? If my university wasn't commuter based I imagine there'd be a higher drop-out rate and a much higher level of alcohol poisoning on campus. Why would I want to do that though?"
There they are! I bite the head off of a green squishy bear.
"Besides that, there's so many better things I could do. Gatherings with friends, construction projects (which are actually quite rewarding). Coheed and Cambria concerts that were sold out until this afternoon that you jumped on like the 'Tea Party' to Obama's Health Care bill, except your jumping was productive. These opportunities would be missed in Cancun, or wherever the hell the young and logically handicapped people go get herpes these days."
I smile, kill the last few bears, and my fingers come to a rest.
I search offhandedly for my bag of gummy bears.
"Really, if I'm going to have a week and a half off from my classes and work, do you expect me to go do something I won't remember after? Or wake up with an infestation of crab-mites? Or find out that the person in the bed with me looks much less attractive and suddenly more manly than she did when I was drunk? There's no point to it."
Where the fuck are my gummy bears? I ignore it, and keep typing.
"If I wanted that kind of nonsense, I could do it on a weekend and have significantly less memory loss. How many college students do that on a daily basis anyway? If my university wasn't commuter based I imagine there'd be a higher drop-out rate and a much higher level of alcohol poisoning on campus. Why would I want to do that though?"
There they are! I bite the head off of a green squishy bear.
"Besides that, there's so many better things I could do. Gatherings with friends, construction projects (which are actually quite rewarding). Coheed and Cambria concerts that were sold out until this afternoon that you jumped on like the 'Tea Party' to Obama's Health Care bill, except your jumping was productive. These opportunities would be missed in Cancun, or wherever the hell the young and logically handicapped people go get herpes these days."
I smile, kill the last few bears, and my fingers come to a rest.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Bonus Content!
I was going to repost an old piece I wrote about Valentine's Day, but that would really just rip off my audience. However, I feel it might be helpful to explain why this "holiday" doesn't matter to me. After I'll post a real bit for the night.
Valentine's Day is viewed as a celebration of love, but that in itself is a lie. If love exists in a relationship, then it is celebrated every day. Instead, Valentine's Day has degraded into International Fuck-Day. Now candy, card, and condom companies around the world (though really, America's where it's at) are cashing in on the blind group think of people that feel inadequate.
VD (to borrow a joke from a friend) is sickening. Because of the need to cash in, the single would-be consumers are left feeling alone. They feel like there is something wrong with them that they couldn't attract and keep a mate, even though that's no easy task in reality by any stretch of the imagination.
Consider instead for a moment doing these things on any day besides VD. Pick a random day in May to go out to eat and see a show with your significant other, a date in August for random roses, and another in November for chocolate. You look like you actually care about them, rather than feeling obligated to do so by society around you.
I suppose I'll reference something that doesn't exist yet, but the post on love will tie into this heavily. Anyone can spend large amounts of money to buy a girl a gemstone, and it would mean nothing. You could do it, your brother could do it, her best friend could do it. It would mean nothing, especially for a day that you're almost expected to do it.
Want to celebrate love? Do something you don't want to for their behalf, and do it with a smile for them. Do something nice without feeling obligated to or expected to. Go to that opera they want to go to, even though you can't stand it. Leave the mp3 player at home, grin and bear it. Show that you're worth a shit the whole year round.
Check back later today for something oddly fitting.
Valentine's Day is viewed as a celebration of love, but that in itself is a lie. If love exists in a relationship, then it is celebrated every day. Instead, Valentine's Day has degraded into International Fuck-Day. Now candy, card, and condom companies around the world (though really, America's where it's at) are cashing in on the blind group think of people that feel inadequate.
VD (to borrow a joke from a friend) is sickening. Because of the need to cash in, the single would-be consumers are left feeling alone. They feel like there is something wrong with them that they couldn't attract and keep a mate, even though that's no easy task in reality by any stretch of the imagination.
Consider instead for a moment doing these things on any day besides VD. Pick a random day in May to go out to eat and see a show with your significant other, a date in August for random roses, and another in November for chocolate. You look like you actually care about them, rather than feeling obligated to do so by society around you.
I suppose I'll reference something that doesn't exist yet, but the post on love will tie into this heavily. Anyone can spend large amounts of money to buy a girl a gemstone, and it would mean nothing. You could do it, your brother could do it, her best friend could do it. It would mean nothing, especially for a day that you're almost expected to do it.
Want to celebrate love? Do something you don't want to for their behalf, and do it with a smile for them. Do something nice without feeling obligated to or expected to. Go to that opera they want to go to, even though you can't stand it. Leave the mp3 player at home, grin and bear it. Show that you're worth a shit the whole year round.
Check back later today for something oddly fitting.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Beatles Loved it so Much, They Wrote a Song About It.
Fun fact: I turned 24 yesterday (technically, since it's after midnight).
My birthday comes each year as a symbol, much in the same way that I view New Year's day. I don't panic that I'm getting older, or that I'm now considered in my "mid-twenties." I don't have midlife crises (I don't think I'm going to meet the high average of the human life expectancy. No real reason, just a strange hunch). I don't go out and do something stupid. Every year I have a small group of people around me, and it's rarely planned ahead of time. I don't care about presents, or money, or odd special activities. I care about being surrounded by people I love. Usually this means my friends, since my family's always around anyway.
An anniversary of the day you were squirted from the womb - not as pretty as it's made out to be. Many claim it's a celebration of life, but those people tend to be short sighted when considering that every day should be a celebration of life. Some see it as death's hand giving them the finger, reminding them that he's watching very closely. These people also see a cup as half empty, and filled with bile. Others see it as a chance for something new, a fresh start. I suppose that's a decent enough goal, but it's only been thirteen days since I did that already. I haven't especially fucked all that much up in that time, there's no real reason for me to "start fresh" again.
I see birthdays as a little of each of these things, because I don't feel that a birthday (or an age, for that matter) should be all that special all the time. Well, no. That's a lie. I don't feel that mine is all that significant. I like having it acknowledged, but much more than that and I almost feel guilty. To an extent it's a matter of fairness, I suppose. I love to do something special for each of my friends on their birthday if possible, even if it's nothing all that big. Even if it's something as simple as a warm hug or a firm handshake or some other gesture that wouldn't've been there for that reason otherwise. In some cases it goes much larger or deeper, but the little things mean the most.
For this reason, I can't object too heavily when my friends do anything for me on my own uterus-eviction day. I sometimes feel mildly guilty about it, or in other cases try to find something that will offset the hassle in some small way, but ultimately I yield to my friends. Perhaps that's why I stay around them so much: they can break through my stubbornness without a thought, and are willing to return the same kindness that was shown them, even when it isn't expected. It's not that they pay for my meal, it's that they refused to let me pay. I had to sneak five dollars in towards tip so it could get through.
As stated somewhere above - I'm too lazy to scroll up to see where it was - I don't really plan much of anything for this day. Never really have, not for years. I'll usually spend it with my girlfriend, or I'll invite some friends to my house for cake, finger food, and board games. It's just like any other day, except for cake. Today was my most-last-minute gathering ever, literally inviting people an hour before we were to meet. That said, it went well for a haphazard setup. Good food, a good group of friends, and random frivolities in a city so close that I never really visit. It was a good night for its simplicity.
A birthday should never be a day of mourning, no day ever really should (except, of course, when you're in mourning. Then I suppose it's fine). Be glad you're alive, and even when the day is terrible (I've had my share of those birthdays too, I feel your pain), celebrate in some small way that you were at least able to see it.
Well. I think that probably went off from what I wanted to say, but that's fine. This is probably still readable. Whenever your day is, Happy Birthday to you.
My birthday comes each year as a symbol, much in the same way that I view New Year's day. I don't panic that I'm getting older, or that I'm now considered in my "mid-twenties." I don't have midlife crises (I don't think I'm going to meet the high average of the human life expectancy. No real reason, just a strange hunch). I don't go out and do something stupid. Every year I have a small group of people around me, and it's rarely planned ahead of time. I don't care about presents, or money, or odd special activities. I care about being surrounded by people I love. Usually this means my friends, since my family's always around anyway.
An anniversary of the day you were squirted from the womb - not as pretty as it's made out to be. Many claim it's a celebration of life, but those people tend to be short sighted when considering that every day should be a celebration of life. Some see it as death's hand giving them the finger, reminding them that he's watching very closely. These people also see a cup as half empty, and filled with bile. Others see it as a chance for something new, a fresh start. I suppose that's a decent enough goal, but it's only been thirteen days since I did that already. I haven't especially fucked all that much up in that time, there's no real reason for me to "start fresh" again.
I see birthdays as a little of each of these things, because I don't feel that a birthday (or an age, for that matter) should be all that special all the time. Well, no. That's a lie. I don't feel that mine is all that significant. I like having it acknowledged, but much more than that and I almost feel guilty. To an extent it's a matter of fairness, I suppose. I love to do something special for each of my friends on their birthday if possible, even if it's nothing all that big. Even if it's something as simple as a warm hug or a firm handshake or some other gesture that wouldn't've been there for that reason otherwise. In some cases it goes much larger or deeper, but the little things mean the most.
For this reason, I can't object too heavily when my friends do anything for me on my own uterus-eviction day. I sometimes feel mildly guilty about it, or in other cases try to find something that will offset the hassle in some small way, but ultimately I yield to my friends. Perhaps that's why I stay around them so much: they can break through my stubbornness without a thought, and are willing to return the same kindness that was shown them, even when it isn't expected. It's not that they pay for my meal, it's that they refused to let me pay. I had to sneak five dollars in towards tip so it could get through.
As stated somewhere above - I'm too lazy to scroll up to see where it was - I don't really plan much of anything for this day. Never really have, not for years. I'll usually spend it with my girlfriend, or I'll invite some friends to my house for cake, finger food, and board games. It's just like any other day, except for cake. Today was my most-last-minute gathering ever, literally inviting people an hour before we were to meet. That said, it went well for a haphazard setup. Good food, a good group of friends, and random frivolities in a city so close that I never really visit. It was a good night for its simplicity.
A birthday should never be a day of mourning, no day ever really should (except, of course, when you're in mourning. Then I suppose it's fine). Be glad you're alive, and even when the day is terrible (I've had my share of those birthdays too, I feel your pain), celebrate in some small way that you were at least able to see it.
Well. I think that probably went off from what I wanted to say, but that's fine. This is probably still readable. Whenever your day is, Happy Birthday to you.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Most Wonderful [noun] of the [noun]
I love Christmas. I love the family, the food, and the exchange of gifts (in that order.) I love that for one day a year, everyone at least pretends to get along and stop fighting, and has no qualms about giving to the needy.
There was a tradition that we used to have in my family (I don't remember if we still do it) to have enough food to feed two extra people, should someone not have a place to go. It's a beautiful tradition, and I think it should happen everywhere. Ingrain it in your children's hearts. Don't forge the consumerism that goes along with this season.
Exchanging gifts is not "gift giving," as the larger retail chains would have you think. You can exchange gifts all year round, but Christmas (and anniversaries) is specifically for that reason. "Gift giving," implies that you must spend hundreds of dollars to give something, which is a brilliant use of group-think pushing to the borderline retarded. Some of the best gifts I've ever received (and I'm told given) are hand made, and cost little more than the building supplies. Those are the things that matter. It's not the objects that you pass to someone, it's why you're passing them.
I wish I had more time to prepare for the season this year. I had so many ideas for things to give, but the season snuck-up this year. It didn't feel like the holiday season (though realistically, it helped that I wasn't in retail). There was little Christmas music, and Hanukkah came early. Even Kwanzaa passed quietly. I don't care so much about the additional time to buy gifts. Most of my ideas were things to make by hand, that now will have to wait for another year.
What frightens me is that this time of year might be the only thing keeping a few dozen major retail chains alive, thus keeping thousands of people (hundreds I know personally) employed. I can't even say "DON'T BUY STUFF! GIVE LOVE!" this year, like I normally would in my hippie-esque way. I can only say "Give what you think means something, not that gigantic thing with a convincing commercial."
This isn't really the most wonderful time of the year anymore though. I went to BestBuy recently and the line wrapped around the back of the store. I have many friends in this particular branch, some of them looked frazzled from the constant stream of rabid customers. I can't blame them. I'd be haggard too. Some took it better than others, a few keeping a genuine smile through the day. Maybe they just felt loved that someone came to visit them (I loved knowing that when I was in retail too), but they seemed to have it before they realized they were visited. Maybe the Christmas spirit doesn't need to be grafted into everyone. Maybe it's still alive on its own in a few people.
If you celebrate Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Festivus, the Winter Solstice, New Year, and/or Christmas, then I hope you had/have/are currently enjoying it. For Unitarians, happy all of the above.
There was a tradition that we used to have in my family (I don't remember if we still do it) to have enough food to feed two extra people, should someone not have a place to go. It's a beautiful tradition, and I think it should happen everywhere. Ingrain it in your children's hearts. Don't forge the consumerism that goes along with this season.
Exchanging gifts is not "gift giving," as the larger retail chains would have you think. You can exchange gifts all year round, but Christmas (and anniversaries) is specifically for that reason. "Gift giving," implies that you must spend hundreds of dollars to give something, which is a brilliant use of group-think pushing to the borderline retarded. Some of the best gifts I've ever received (and I'm told given) are hand made, and cost little more than the building supplies. Those are the things that matter. It's not the objects that you pass to someone, it's why you're passing them.
I wish I had more time to prepare for the season this year. I had so many ideas for things to give, but the season snuck-up this year. It didn't feel like the holiday season (though realistically, it helped that I wasn't in retail). There was little Christmas music, and Hanukkah came early. Even Kwanzaa passed quietly. I don't care so much about the additional time to buy gifts. Most of my ideas were things to make by hand, that now will have to wait for another year.
What frightens me is that this time of year might be the only thing keeping a few dozen major retail chains alive, thus keeping thousands of people (hundreds I know personally) employed. I can't even say "DON'T BUY STUFF! GIVE LOVE!" this year, like I normally would in my hippie-esque way. I can only say "Give what you think means something, not that gigantic thing with a convincing commercial."
This isn't really the most wonderful time of the year anymore though. I went to BestBuy recently and the line wrapped around the back of the store. I have many friends in this particular branch, some of them looked frazzled from the constant stream of rabid customers. I can't blame them. I'd be haggard too. Some took it better than others, a few keeping a genuine smile through the day. Maybe they just felt loved that someone came to visit them (I loved knowing that when I was in retail too), but they seemed to have it before they realized they were visited. Maybe the Christmas spirit doesn't need to be grafted into everyone. Maybe it's still alive on its own in a few people.
If you celebrate Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Festivus, the Winter Solstice, New Year, and/or Christmas, then I hope you had/have/are currently enjoying it. For Unitarians, happy all of the above.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR ARM OFF AND STUFF IT UP YOUR ASS...
...after you've been in an oven for five hours and your flesh has been devoured by a half dozen predators to your kind. Poor turkey being put away for storage.
It's Thanksgiving, and I am finally at my house for the first time in three years for the holiday. It's strange to be back, but Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays I enjoy. I don't enjoy it because of the parades (don't watch 'em), or the specials (March of the Wooden Soldiers never really interested me, but even that was canceled this year for football), or even the food (which is awesome for the first 20 minutes). Thanksgiving is one of the rare times my family acts civil with one another, and for this I couldn't be more grateful.
I don't much care that it celebrates when European settlers took advantage of native peoples, as they did in nearly every place they visited. I don't care that it is a day of mass genocide for turkeys, especially since they are specifically raised for this purpose and can no longer live in the wild on their own. I don't care about the looming destruction and economic stroke that will ensue tomorrow. All that matters to me is that my family finally worked like one that functions. I spent the day with my loved ones, and they acted like ones I should love. That's something worth celebrating.
That's what I'm thankful for. That's all for today. Happy Thanksgiving.
It's Thanksgiving, and I am finally at my house for the first time in three years for the holiday. It's strange to be back, but Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays I enjoy. I don't enjoy it because of the parades (don't watch 'em), or the specials (March of the Wooden Soldiers never really interested me, but even that was canceled this year for football), or even the food (which is awesome for the first 20 minutes). Thanksgiving is one of the rare times my family acts civil with one another, and for this I couldn't be more grateful.
I don't much care that it celebrates when European settlers took advantage of native peoples, as they did in nearly every place they visited. I don't care that it is a day of mass genocide for turkeys, especially since they are specifically raised for this purpose and can no longer live in the wild on their own. I don't care about the looming destruction and economic stroke that will ensue tomorrow. All that matters to me is that my family finally worked like one that functions. I spent the day with my loved ones, and they acted like ones I should love. That's something worth celebrating.
That's what I'm thankful for. That's all for today. Happy Thanksgiving.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Halloween
To whoever reads this, Happy Halloween. As it falls on a Saturday this year, I'm sure that the NYPD are having just as much fun as the kids.
I like Halloween, which is more than I can say for most holidays that revolve around candy. I've always liked it, it gave me a chance to be someone else for a while. Someone more fun, someone fantastic. It gave me a way out of my monotony. I'm a geek, and always have been, so the costumes I remember best are Beetlejuice, a random Star Trek officer, and Hagrid (as an adult). Each is so far removed from myself for that one day that I couldn't be more pleased to be them for a time. This year I chaperoned one of my brothers in his candy hunting, and my costume was: myself, with a shovel.
I told the people that asked that I was a gravedigger, as this gives me an excuse to carry one with me. The practicality of it allows me to protect my brother should anyone want to start trouble, as well as not really need to change at all. Yesterday, I was a pirate. The only real difference is an eye patch.
I don't want to be removed from myself anymore, over however long it's taken, I've come to like who I am enough not to want to be someone else, even for a day. I wanted a costume that was similar to myself, but none seem to really exist. So, I got around this problem.
Really, the holiday's only alive these days to sustain candy and costume companies (I'm sure they supply many jobs. There's an idea - make up a new bullshit holiday with a lot of stuff involved, have new jobs to make all that stuff. Economy's saved!), but it goes much deeper than that when it comes to feeding a child's imagination [good thing] and the level of apathetic escapism in adults [bad thing].
There's a reason why so many women show up to Halloween parties looking like they crawled out of a bad porno film. There's a reason why so many men model themselves after the punchlines to jokes they told when they were twelve. Attention through being someone else for the day. Don't find yourself attractive in some way? Today's the day you can turn all that around (for a day)! Wear that foam suit that makes you into a "fart detector," wear that cleavage-inducing corset that you wouldn't even see in a Renaissance Faire. Women love guys that are funny, guys love women with big tits. Instant appeal!
Fuck you. You're ruining the spirit of the day. You're nearly as bad as the people that slip razor blades into Carmel apples and give me reason to chaperon with a shovel.
This isn't to say that all costumes are out of spirit, or even to say that all of the costumes that might fall occasionally into the category above are bad. It's the intention that matters. Not to hurt any one's already fragile self esteem, but seriously. Instead of pretending to be something you're not, why not become something you'd rather be?
We all pick our costumes because there's a trait somewhere that we identify with, and many more that we wish we had. You like that the hero in some story is brave and rugged, and they have the same snarky sense of humor you do. Why not try things you're afraid of? Why not work on overcoming your own apprehension?
Happy Halloween kids. Check your candy before you eat it.
I like Halloween, which is more than I can say for most holidays that revolve around candy. I've always liked it, it gave me a chance to be someone else for a while. Someone more fun, someone fantastic. It gave me a way out of my monotony. I'm a geek, and always have been, so the costumes I remember best are Beetlejuice, a random Star Trek officer, and Hagrid (as an adult). Each is so far removed from myself for that one day that I couldn't be more pleased to be them for a time. This year I chaperoned one of my brothers in his candy hunting, and my costume was: myself, with a shovel.
I told the people that asked that I was a gravedigger, as this gives me an excuse to carry one with me. The practicality of it allows me to protect my brother should anyone want to start trouble, as well as not really need to change at all. Yesterday, I was a pirate. The only real difference is an eye patch.
I don't want to be removed from myself anymore, over however long it's taken, I've come to like who I am enough not to want to be someone else, even for a day. I wanted a costume that was similar to myself, but none seem to really exist. So, I got around this problem.
Really, the holiday's only alive these days to sustain candy and costume companies (I'm sure they supply many jobs. There's an idea - make up a new bullshit holiday with a lot of stuff involved, have new jobs to make all that stuff. Economy's saved!), but it goes much deeper than that when it comes to feeding a child's imagination [good thing] and the level of apathetic escapism in adults [bad thing].
There's a reason why so many women show up to Halloween parties looking like they crawled out of a bad porno film. There's a reason why so many men model themselves after the punchlines to jokes they told when they were twelve. Attention through being someone else for the day. Don't find yourself attractive in some way? Today's the day you can turn all that around (for a day)! Wear that foam suit that makes you into a "fart detector," wear that cleavage-inducing corset that you wouldn't even see in a Renaissance Faire. Women love guys that are funny, guys love women with big tits. Instant appeal!
Fuck you. You're ruining the spirit of the day. You're nearly as bad as the people that slip razor blades into Carmel apples and give me reason to chaperon with a shovel.
This isn't to say that all costumes are out of spirit, or even to say that all of the costumes that might fall occasionally into the category above are bad. It's the intention that matters. Not to hurt any one's already fragile self esteem, but seriously. Instead of pretending to be something you're not, why not become something you'd rather be?
We all pick our costumes because there's a trait somewhere that we identify with, and many more that we wish we had. You like that the hero in some story is brave and rugged, and they have the same snarky sense of humor you do. Why not try things you're afraid of? Why not work on overcoming your own apprehension?
Happy Halloween kids. Check your candy before you eat it.
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