Entry 1: "Because he said so"

So my therapist says that as a certified Section 8 I need a regular thought outlet that can also act as a disciplining agent in my daily life. He hinted that since I’m a Journalism major now, I might want to start journaling. Well Hell knows that writing longhand is just a bit too close to drawing for this ex-artist, so I think I’ll take the high-tech road and keep a digital journal….ie. a blog. Well fuck, since I’m writing a blog, I might as well resurrect my forgotten MySpace, DeviantArt and LiveJournal accounts and maybe open a Blogger so I can regain my place as one of about 8 people on the internet who don’t use either as a personal dating service for the inter-gender impaired.

Christmas sucks and if you think it doesn’t then you apparently have “never had the joy of a welfare Christmas” (thanks Everclear). My dad and didn’t bother even putting up lights and a tree this year. I’m sorry, but we don’t need to advertise our willingness to be sucked into the commercialistic free-for-all that is the A.S.S., or American Shopping Season. Even if we did put up a tree and lights, the tree would’ve been mighty lonely because we could not afford gifts this year. We decided to prioritize and buy food instead. Because groceries and an empty tree sure as hell beats looking like an anorexic as your play with your new gameboy.

It’s not that I so much hate Christmas, I just generally hate the people who love it. Or maybe I’ve just become jaded by the past semester of self-defeatism and romantic bloodletting and should be ignored like the old guy in a bath robe who spits expletives at the squirrels in his front yard.

Now New Years, there’s a holiday I can get into. I love the entire mentality of New Years: “Fuck the past, let’s blow shit up!” because that has been the American way for so long as I can remember. Why else would we still have war? And every year it’s the same: Jestin and myself head on up to Mark’s place, where we have a gathering where Jestin and I are the only sober ones as Mark breaks out about $1000 worth of fireworks and finds more and more extravagantly dangerous ways to make things sparkle and go boom, preferably at the same time. Guys + Alcohol + Explosives = a damned good time and maybe a missing toe or two. Me? I have all my toes but I did get a little burned.

As for Christmas Break overall? Well, if it weren’t for Jestin and Chad, I’d probably be even more stir-crazy than usual. They’re the only company outside of my father I ever really have back in Marion and that’s an issue of choice, to be honest. All we ever really do is play video games and go to the Best Buy in Florence to challenge the pair of asian kids that are always playing the Rock Band station. When Jestin and Chad aren’t around, my days are limited to the inside of my abode, cleaning and fixing things, cooking, and playing games.

Speaking of games, thanks to Chad and to Jestin’s family, I did have a bit of a Christmas. Jestin’s family was so nice to give me a brand-new printer they couldn’t seem to get working (the cartridges are duds and a copy of Call of Duty 4 they got for $30 with a gift card. Chad, however, went all out and got me Guitar Hero III, which means me and Mike are going to lose a lot of sleep this semester, especially if we get Rock Band, too.

And I was able to take my dad to see AVP:R for Christmas, albeit the following Sunday, but hey, it was Christmas enough for us. He understands how short I am on cash and we’re both big fans of the Aliens movies, so it seemed like a good chance to spend some time together. The only bad part is he had to drive, since my own car is still busted. Without a car, finding a job back at Winthrop is going to be a lot harder. I don’t want to suffer the dulldrum and awful pay of being a Lab Op again, but my choices are apparently very limited, so I’m pretty boned, it seems. I wish I did have some money, since I wasn’t able to go shopping for gifts for anybody except Michelle, and even her gift was not what I really wanted to get, but it’s all I could afford.

Well, my mood for writing is fast fading, so I’m going to end this and maybe write something later or tomorrow. I doubt anybody will read this, but I’m just following doctor’s orders anyway, so does it actually matter? Most likely it doesn’t and Freddy Mercury was right after all. Either way, I’m gonna end this before my rambling becomes completely incoherent. Bye.