Longing for Christmas

It is October 29th, and Halloween festivities are in full swing.

But my mind is far from Halloween. I do not know why, but I am longing for Christmas right now. I have no clue why. Scenes from "It's a Wonderful Life" keep popping up in my head, and I want to watch it, though I always make the deal with myself each year that I will only watch it on Christmas Eve, or a day very close to it.

I was looking for music to play just now, and I wanted holiday music. I love Christmas music. I used to love the secular stuff like "Jingle Bell Rock" and the old Bing Crosby hits, and I still do to some extent.

During my rebirth the Spirit introduced me to Christmas carols in a whole new way, and since then they've held an incredibly special place in my heart - never to fade. That is a joyful thing.

But I do believe, despite all the aforementioned, that my favorite holiday tune is none of the above. No: It's Carol of the Bells. My mother has a habit of buying compilation CDs. One such CD is one from 2002, and on it The Calling performs a very warming rendition of Carol of the Bells. The first time I heard it I fell in love with it, and it's been the single song I always think of and want to hear a holiday song.

Why? To me, there is something ethereal about it that I cannot get past. I simply must keep listening to it.

So, on this Hallow's eve (of eve of eve) I won't be thinking about ghosts, goblins, witches, wizards, or (oh dear) zombies.

No. I will be thinking about the birth of a little Boy in a manger who, perhaps even then in that stable, knew He was destined to save the world.

Peace.

Castle

I live in a castle.

I fold a hoodie, black, thick, and beautiful in its simplicity, neatly on the bed, just made.

I listen to music from speakers.  Nice speakers. Not $500 speakers.  But they are nice speakers.  They play the music nicely.

I have a plethora of pens and pencils.  Some are new, and some are old.  I will not be without a highlighter for years, and years, and hopefully years, to come.

I have an eraser.  It is two years old.  It's original size is no longer; but I still have the vast majority of it to use up.

I have a mini stapler.  It is three years old, and just as good as the day I first bought it.

Two pairs of gloves sit on my desk.  I cut loose threads from them with a pair of scissors that are over fifteen years old.  I could have used the newer pair; they're maybe ten years old.  They both cut just fine. 

My mother is my maid.  She does my laundry for me.  She even picked it up from my little cloth laundry box that sits by my door.

My sister is my butler.  She brings my clean clothes upstairs and sets them on my bed.

I have a bookshelf full of books.  There will be more there before the next semester begins.  I ponder opening an Amazon account to sell the books on my shelf I don't need anymore.

Two computers sit at my desk.  My workhorse, my three-year-old, my MacBook, and in the background my idler, my two-month-old, my desktop Dell.  Yes, ironic the laptop is the workhorse.  But I don't trust the Dell to go online. 

I am my mother's maid.  I do the dishes, clear the counter, help cook dinner.  I fold towels, socks, and other garments of such necessity.

We take walks, away from our castle, on weekends and unrainy days.  We pass by others' castles.  Theirs are prettier than ours.  But that's all right.

I live in a castle with running water at my fingertips, a cup brimming with hot tea to drink, a bed to rest my tired body in after long days, and a puppy to play with.  There are clothes - many and many clothes - in my closet to wear.

I do not own heirlooms.  I do not hold priceless finery, large baubles of diamond and sapphire, in my hand.  I do not have a T.V. in my room, I do not possess a two-hundred dollar watch.  I am not the monarch of Fortune 500. 

Nor do I aspire to those things.

I sleep on sheets that have been used nearly every day since they were purchased more than ten years ago.  I don't know how long it's been, exactly.

But I am fortunate.

I am joyful.

I live in a castle.

Nevermind

Perhaps you can expedite dating.

Read: Perhaps you can expedite dating. But me? No. I don't think it's for me. Not with this person anyway. I will continue to enjoy his company, but I really can't keep wondering this way. It's not going to end well if I do. I've been going around for the past week my brain completely consumed with thinking about him. Not healthy (not to mention slightly creeperish, even though I doubt he knows). I woke up this morning, decided I was going to forget about him and my ridiculous infatuation with him - and what do you know: I had the best day I've had in over a week.

Goal: Keep the trend going. (That may prove difficult on days we have class together.)

Don't get me wrong - if a guy makes a move, and I'm interested in him - oh - I'm there. But for now, this is the way it's gonna be.

Random completely unrelated sidenote: I'm positively sick of people thinking they can contract swine flu by eating pork products. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Expediting Dating

I suppose this is the question: Can dating be expedited?

In truth, it probably depends on the person.

You see, my younger sister just recently got a boyfriend. My older sister and I do not have boyfriends. I had one at one time, but that's a long story. My older sister has never had a boyfriend.

There is a boy my sister has been interested in for approximately way too long for nothing to have happened yet (thus, it is time to make something happen). And, she informs me, he does flirt with her. (I haven't witnessed this myself; I've only seen the guy in person once.)

There is a boy I myself am somewhat interested in, though I've known him for approximately two months, and I only see him twice a week - at school, in a class we have together, and for the half hour or so before class we spend talking about random things.

Here's the goal: All three of us get boyfriends by the time the month is out.
Here's the question: Is it possible?

So, if you were a guy I'd known for the aforementioned length of time, enjoyed talking with me (because, seemingly, he does), and appreciated the classroom antics we seem to be amused by, would it be incredibly forward of me to ask to hang out with you outside of class?

I ask for the heck of it, just to see if it could happen, and, well, to maybe end up with a very awesome boyfriend. And to see just how far existentialism really can take you.