I suppose I'm not the only one who gets a letdown at the end of Christmas and New Year's. But it's just hitting me harder this year the distance between me and the Christmases of yore, when everything was perfect.
It seems to me that between the ages of 4 and 14, we had maybe one green Christmas. Now it seems every year the ground is brown. I'd be willing to buy into any environmental plan of Gore's just to get myself some more white Christmases.
What's more, Christmas was just more fun. I'd get up, we'd all open our stockings, have some breakfast, then go off to one of the grandparent's houses, open presents, then head off to another grandparent's house. I'd watch TV until we all opened presents, then more TV until dinner, then more TV until we left at the end of the night, then I'd fall asleep on the long car ride home.
Now, Christmas is spread over a couple of weeks. Between the death of various grandparents, divorces, and general family strife, there's rarely a lot of family around for each event. We visit when we we can, hang around for awkward conversation for a while, hand over gifts to each other (no one's really excited about this one - since we don't know each other anymore, how would we know what to get each other?) We're not even really welcome to visit my dad's stepfather and his children and grandchildren, because, after all, we aren't really his grandchildren. He still sends cards, though he's stopped signing them "Granky," but instead by his first name. How cordial.
I miss Christmas. I miss the joy and wonder of it all, when I was an annoying little towhead who couldn't sit still long enough to wait for his turn for presents to come around again. When Christmas was just fun, and there weren't any strings attached.
I suppose I'm showing my youth rather than my age. I suppose every Christmas I had was probably more like the one I just had, I just never realized it when I was young. I remember whispered conversations that my parents had in the front seat when they thought that we'd fallen asleep, talking about who was just about to lose his job, or had entered AA, or might be getting a divorce. I suppose every Christmas was just the same. And it makes sense that New Year's Eve was a big deal, since someone who's bedtime is 8:15 is going to be awfully excited to stay up 'til midnight. Nowadays, that's the goal if I'm aiming for an early night. No wonder, it's a let down. Speaking of which, it's midnight now. Happy January 3rd.
I guess I just miss innocence. I wish I could have a pure and simple Christmas. Snow on the ground, fire in the fireplace, all of us opening presents, laughing and joking - and nothing on my mind but the moment. I wish that most of all.
Hello, It's Me, Picasso
Don't know if you've seen this yet: This summer, the #1 song on the European charts was "Dragostea din Tei" (literally, "Love from the Lindens") from a Romanian boy band named "O-zone" - the first Romanian single ever to reach #1. This would be exciting except for the fact that the number #2 song on the charts was "Dragostea din Tei" by Haiducii, an Abba-styled Italian pop starlet who'd covered the track. That's right, the same song was number #1 and #2 on the charts.
Repetitiveness aside, the song's awfully catchy and you can see why it was so sucessful, despite the fact that no one outside of Romania knows what the hell it means. To be fair, it's a pop song, and as Dan Balan of O-zone points out "One doesn't have to understand the words. Our song is fun and has a cool rhythm. That's the whole secret of the song." I couldn't have said it any better myself, Dan.
The boy band version's awfully catchy, plus the band's so dorky in that "my idea of cool comes from what I've seen on Romanian TV, which apparently is mostly old 'Miami Vice' re-runs" sort of way that you become oddly attached in a pitying sort of way, as if they were a three-legged dog, or Strom Thurmond. You can catch the Window's Media Player version here, or the Real Player version here.
Haiduicii's a bit less of a visceral thrill, though she's easier on the eyes in a "Farrah Fawcett lookalike sings your Romanian pop favorites" sort of way. She's only available in Windows Media Player, but you can catch her both live in concert, and in her music video, which features what appears to be Gregg Allman wandering a hotel room in drugged confusion (for all I know, it might actually be Gregg Allman).
And, if you need to know just what "love from the lindens" means, or see the lyric from the title in context, check out the lyrics.
New Years Resolution
I'm sort of nervous about the idea of actually posting on the site, as if putting in a real post somehow crosses an invisible line: "If you post this, you can't go back - you can't ever go back. And, what's more, they're all going to read this post, raise their eyebrows, click away and never come back." It's quite debilitating. It's the same feeling as when you're staring at the phone and the scrawled number written on a slip of paper on your hand and trying to talk yourself into actually dialing the number. "C'mon, old boy, you can do it... y'know what, I'll get something to drink first, check the e-mail, then I'll call."
Alright, maybe it's not that bad. I'm awfully phone-shy.
Between posting, e-mails, and the personal opinions of my family members (100% in favor of "Weasels"), the voting on the blog name stands dead even. Please vote, so my younger brother does not end up being the deciding vote.
While I'm clearing the air of all my insecurities, I'll make a list of my resolutions for the coming year, called "Things That I Will Not Spend Too Much Time Thinking About." Ever the optimist, after each section I'll put a timeline on how long I think each one is likely to last:
- Filmmaking - I spent the last month of the semester working on a film for my Digital Field Production class. Every second I was not working on the film, I spent thinking about the film, obsessing over details, and during a period where I did not sleep for three days while working through the night on the film, almost made myself physically sick. This semester I'll be working on two films and a documentary, all working with partners. If I'm not grounded, I'm going to drive everyone insane and really tick off everyone I'm working with. Then, in the fall, I'll be going to LA to intern at a movie studio and that'll be even worse and I need to lie down. (3 weeks)
- Going Bald - It happens to the best of us. Except for those lucky buggers who don't have the problem, and seem determined to point the fact out: "Hey, Wyman, you're going bald out here in the back. Did you know that? I bet you'll be bald in a couple years!" (However soon after midnight I see a mirror)
- Girls - Oh, come on. Like you've never made the same resolution. (However soon after midnight I see a girl)
- My Heart Condition - I have a heart condition so unheard of the heart specialists have no idea what it could be. They want to write me up in a medical journal so other doctors can also have no idea what it is. The only thing they can think of is that it might be is a disease in which your heart, for no apparent reason, just stops beating. It's concerning. (Next time I feel ill in any way)
- This Blog - See, as you can tell, I've already invested too much time worrying about what you, the reader, who somehow made it this far, thinks. I think this one should pan out, though. I'll admit that for a while, I'll probably post each time with some trepidation as the the reader's opinion: "A list? My first post is list? Nobody reads lists! " (Tuesday)
- Myself - Well, it's a nice sentiment, anyway. (Hmm... if I avoid all mirrors...)
Launch
I've decided to launch the site, officially. It's not ready yet, but I'd gotten sick of having a "test post" be my only post. So, off we go.
Ten-Four, Good Buddy: Still 100% Content Free!
I'll still need your votes on the issue of site name. "Ten-Four, Good Buddy," or "Weasels Ripped My Flesh?" Cast your votes quickly, before people actually start to come to my site, and I'll need to keep a steady name, out of precedent.
Opinion?
Which of these is a better blog title:
Ten-Four, Good Buddy, or Weasels Ripped My Flesh?
Possible considerations:
- I have a shirt that matches Ten-Four, Good Buddy. It's a good shirt, too. Great publicity. It's back from when stores were just catching on to the idea of fake vintage. Vintage fake vintage. The store went out of business as a result.
- For Weasels Ripped My Flesh, I have this:
Be honest, and remember: this is for posterity.