Tuesday, December 21, 2010

New skin for the old Sarah-mony

The end of the year always seems like a good time to get a fresh start.

So I asked my friend Elena to cut about three years off of my hair.


Cut off the death and sadness.
Cut off the isolation.
Cut off the abuse of Los Angeles.
Cut off the last traces of Texas.

Color my hair so that my eyes shine again.

This was my Christmas. An act of kindness from a loved one, shared with loved ones, reciprocated by a loved one.

I've never understood why Christmas day should be any different than the rest of the year.

Why do these illusions and disillusions have to be celebrated on designated days? Why can't kindness and human civility happen on any or all days of the year? Why does it have to be scheduled into the calender?

It feels something like this to me:

January through Thanksgiving -- go ahead and be an asshole -- you can make it up during the holidays!

Thanksgiving through Christmas -- time to act right and be nice to the ones you say you love. Give 'em a call -- five minutes of small talk will wipe it all away and YOU won't feel so guilty.

Because it's all about you, isn't it?

Well, I got news for you -- one phone call on the most busy and confusing day of the year won't make up for being a douche bag the other 364 days of the year.

Does anyone even know what Christmas stands for these days except CONSUME?

What the hell are we celebrating anyway?

What means what to whom.

Celebrate the birth of Christ? Christian.

Celebrate Santa? Pagan.

Celebrate both? Confused hypocrite.

Celebrate Christmas but don't actually believe in any of it? Overstimulated dipshit consumer duped by the incessant advertising that is piped into our brains every time we open our eyes or ears.

Don't celebrate any of it and try to avoid the consumerism? Get called a Jehovah's Witness.

But then again, ya know what?

Don't think twice, it's alright.

Have a happy holiday -- whatever the fuck that means to you.