Merry Whatever to all and to all a good oh, go away...

So I was watching Christmas specials on Netflix earlier, hoping to stave off the inevitable feeling of loneliness I've been having about spending Christmas alone. After the first couple shows, however, I began to notice a recurring pattern in a lot of these specials.

Protagonist: YAY IT'S CHRISTMAS (or whatever coincidentally similar holiday they might be celebrating during wintertime in the world of this show)!

Secondary character: Oh, no! So-and-so is all alone. We should help him/her.

Protagonist: We should! No one should spend Christmas alone!

*Cue the rest of the episode revolving around getting so-and-so to join them/reunite with estranged family/make new friends/not spend Christmas alone*

So you can imagine that, after a couple hours of this, I found myself in no better spirits than I did when I began this mope-tastic cartoonathon.

Sure, I rarely actually CELEBRATE this holiday as it is... in fact, one year I even found myself playing World of Warcaft for the majority of the day. Sometimes I just sit and watch television in my parents' house. But even though I seldom have a garish tree in my living room and I cannot for the life of me remember the last time I donned a Santa hat... I realized I never actually spent this day completely alone ever before.

To be completely honest, it wouldn't be all that bad if (and I should feel terrible saying this but then I remembered OH YEAH I'm a terrible person! I don't care!) everyone else wasn't so. Damn. Happy. 

I've been alone before. In fact, as of late, I find myself in the company of no other living person more often than not due to my current circumstances. The problem lies in the cheerful nature of everyone else during this time of year. 

Ok, you know how there's that one single guy you know? The one who sighs every time he sees couples holding hands when he goes anywhere? Or even just seeing people fall in love in the movies he watches (alone)? It's a bit similar. 

I'm not really trying to come off as a Grinch, bashing on everyone else having a (God forbid) good holiday season. By all means, you probably deserve it. Post your happy photos on Facebook for me to sigh wistfully at (even if you are wearing gaudy sweaters, you're entitled) with your cookies and your trees and your oversized socks that don't seem to come in a pair for some stupid reason. Hell, I never have any of those things even when I DO find company on Christmas. Just don't expect me to leave cheerful comments on said photos because I'm a cold, bitter person. 

The saddest part of all this is that I've always loved Christmas above every other holiday. Do I care that it's an admittedly religious holiday, perpetuated by capitalism and greed? Not really, no. No matter how many nativity scenes people try to push in your face, I'm pretty sure even Jesus himself would admit defeat after realizing how many more people Google Santa's name than his. Christmas isn't about Jesus, I don't care what anyone tells you. It's about  passive aggressive yard-decorating competitions with your neighbors, seasonal drinks at Starbucks and catchy jingles on the radio that still make you happy even if you've heard them a million and a half times. Problem is, it's also about spending time with people (preferably ones you like.) I'm a bit lacking in that department. 

Maybe I'll just call myself a hipster and proclaim that Christmas is just too mainstream of a holiday for me to give a damn about it. 

Damn shame I don't make a very convincing hipster.

With Friends Like Those, Who Needs Jersey Shore?

I recently went to a dinner party... during which I ended up contemplating the many ways I might be able to kill myself with the plastic utensils I was given to avoid spending any further time with the rest of the guests. (I like cheery introductions.)

Most of these guests were loud, obnoxious and to an extent even rude. The hostess happened to be one of the sweetest people I know so you can imagine my utter disbelief when I found the majority of her friends were one trainwreck after the other. If one wasn't screaming out "YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT LOLOL" at the top of her lungs, another was squealing like a pig at some vague sexual joke she had just made about something in the room. It's safe to say I'd have felt more at home in a brothel.

I often wonder how good people can keep bad company. In recent years, I have made it a point to cut off communication with those I considered "toxic friends," a term I stumbled across on Yahoo.com and plan to pretend I made up. Those friends you have that warrant questioning from others such as, "Why do you keep him/her around?" are the ones I'm referring to. If no one has ever asked you such a question... congratulations, you're that friend.

These also happen to be the friends you have the best stories about and, as entertaining as these stories may be, acquaintances will eventually notice a pattern in that all of these stories end with, "And so she got the abortion" or "And so we bailed him out." What most people don't realize is that the toxicity of these... individuals (I hesitate to call them people) may bleed into aspects of your own personality. Never gone streaking in public before? Well, these friends of yours are going to do their damndest to change that. Never had a one night-stand with some frat douche you met at a bar? Go onnnnn, she's had 30 of those. One won't hurt.

I've never found the value of entertainment to exceed the value of being dignified, but I guess I'm just old fashioned in that respect. I tend to weed out the so-called bad influences because, for some strange reason, I don't have much patience for people who flake on plans and appointments but somehow find the time to call me up at 4 in the morning and ask for a ride somewhere.

I get it, these people might be fun to club with or might know where the best parties are, but they're also the reason you bombed that midterm you should have been studying for. They're that devil on your shoulder, nudging you in their direction because they're lonely and hollow, looking for someone else to destroy from the inside so they don't feel quite so bad about their shitty choices in life. After all, you have shitty choices in friends so why not just go all the way?

Another reason I tend to "excuse myself" when I run into such people is I'm tired of being bored to death by stories of their life and the poor choices that comprise it.

"How did you end up homeless?"
"Well, I dropped out of high school, fucked my step dad, got kicked out, got arrested for stealing a candy bar from 7-11..."
"Oh my, would you look at my wrist? I better get going."

Needless to say, my number of actual friends lingers in the single digits. And some might even go as far as to say that the friends I do have are uninteresting (this from the point of view of those who wake up in strange locations every Sunday morning.) However, I honestly think I'd rather be considered boring with my boring friends than end up pregnant 3 times and have all of my belongings sold by some guy I met in Las Vegas. That happened. To an actual person.

Yet I still enjoy websites such as textsfromlastnight.com because I'm amused and tickled at the antics other morons pull in their free time. I'd never want to actually meet any of these individuals as I may contract a venereal disease simply by sharing the same oxygen, but they're still certainly interesting. And that's all they are. Interesting. These imbeciles you keep around as friends, the ones who break beer bottles over their heads and dance naked on bartops... they're not people. They're merely circus acts, created and nurtured for the amusement of those of us with responsibilities and 401-Ks.

And that's how reality tv came to be. Good night, children.

Today on The History Channel: Grammar and Punctuation

Why are primitive cultures so much more intelligent than those born in the era of rapidly-accessible information?

I walked in on my roommate watching one of her period piece movies (as ya do) the other day and caught a few lines from Jane Eyre. For those of you who, FOR WHATEVER REASON, aren't into films set in 18th century England... well, that's what it is. There ya go.

The line I heard was spoken by a character meant to be a low-class servant and it went something like this,
"I, for one, am never quite certain whether what he says is in earnest or in jest."
Quickly, I put my 21st century brain to work and translated it into something people in this day and age would understand,
"I never know if he's fuckin' with me or not."

I'm fairly confident that THAT alone is the reason anyone could dislike period pieces. The language is too complex and the syntax is too convoluted. I, personally, love the way they spoke back then but goddamn does it make Charles Dickens books a pain in the ass to read through.

So how is it that, when we have almost all the information we could ever need at our fingertips (quite literally, too *clickityclickitykeyboardnoises*) we type and speak like utter retards all the time? Once upon a time, a low-class governess was expected to have an understanding of several languages, a musical instrument or two, and the penmanship of a typewriter. Now you can get a 6 figure marketing job off of Craigslist with nothing but a high school diploma (the requirements of which would make Jane Austen roll over in her grave) and some other Mickey Mouse bullshit like, "an enthusiastic attitude." No joke, the standards for this generation have dropped so low, I'll probably be running Apple by next year on account of my extensive knowledge of... whiskey and Germanic folklore.

This newfangled "chatspeak" that all these whippersnappers are spouting these days is becoming more commonplace than actual, proper English. And, in all seriousness, that terrifies me. Are they going to start teaching this nonsense in schools?

" 'Naw dawg' is used when disagreeing with someone else's viewpoint or to dispute an accusation. A 'bro' is an arrogant person, usually male, who wears checkered shorts and speaks in grunts, much akin to that of the common gorilla. 'Tool' is also a standard titl-- Excuse me, Jimmy! What the SHIT do you think you're doing? What are these? Is that a proper use of the word 'they're?!' So help me, I will call your parents back here if I catch you so much as using proper punctuation."

That's where we're headed. And it's all our faults, admit it. All those times you wrote "gonna" in your essays, all those "like whatever"s that spewed from your gaping maw while you gazed doey-eyed at a book you were assigned to read... it's all led to this moment. This day... where damn near no one understands why the phrase "could care less" does not actually make sense because it's so commonly used that it's become accepted as the norm.

What exactly happened that made being uneducated the ultimate goal in modern social hierarchies?  When did, "lol i dont read buks" become something that was ok to admit? I remember being teased through school because I knew more than a good portion of my classmates (except in math; as far as anyone is concerned, that entire chapter of my life did not happen and you can't prove otherwise) and actually enjoyed reading. Speaking clearly and understanding things like... basic history and science... isn't physically strenuous. If anything, deciphering the code I see some people type on a regular basis is beyond the manpower of most cryptographers on account of how stressful and abrasive it is simply to look at, let alone understand.

I, for one, do not welcome our new textspeak overlords.

Common decency is overrated; let's just all be dicks and see where it gets us

So some bitch cut me off in traffic today.

TWICE.

And so a hop, skip and a ragefest later, here I am writing about it. Like a buttmad loser.

How hard is it to be nice to people? Yes, even people you don't know. We all know people who are dicks to their friends and family and that's a whole different breed of assholery that I just don't have the time to rant and rave about. But what about those people who are just dicks to those they've never met? I know a lot of people have this, "Well, I don't know them so why should I care?" mentality... but think of how easy it would be TO know that person. By the same granted luck that made it so you've never before crossed paths, that anonymous guy in front of you at the grocery store could be your classmate or your raid leader.

And yet it's perfectly fine to treat them like pond scum, not worthy of even a courtesy wave as you cut them off in traffic. Twice.

What the shit makes you so much better than them? The fact that you happen to be conscious and aware of your own existence and not theirs? Just as easily as they could be your best friend, they could also be you. They have parents and friends and co-workers who steal their lunch from the breakroom when no one's looking. They're driving behind you now so you know they probably passed a driving test, just like you. And you know that they had to wait at the DMV for an ungodly amount of time, also just like you. And now they just got cut off in traffic by some asshole who lacks the common decency to figure out where the fuck he's going before he realizes he needs to get off on the next exit and screw everyone who gets in the way of that. Twice.

Just. Like. You.

Chances are, you've been that asshole before. Don't like it when you're on the receiving end of this little game of, "Let's see how little I can care today about everyone who isn't me," do you?

I'm not saying I'm better than all that, goodness no. I have my moments, especially when I've had a particularly unforgiving day and thus feel the need to be unforgiving to everything that has the great misfortune to exist anywhere within a twenty mile radius of my person. I can openly admit that I have an issue with giving the middle finger to old people while driving. It's a problem.

I've come to find that most people never take kindness to heart. If you run into a particularly sweet person while standing in line at Wal-Mart, someone who strikes up a conversation about... whatever it is people at Wal-Mart talk about... you find yourself thinking, "Wow. What a nice lady/guy." And that's that.

Therein lies the problem. No one follows that thought train with, "Maybe I should be kind to strangers as well. It certainly brightened my day; why not brighten someone else's?" Very few people care about the happiness of others because it doesn't affect them directly. You care about the happiness of your wife because that's a deciding factor in whether or not you get dinner tonight. You're also going to care about your friends' happiness because if you piss them off, you have no one to go see that movie with this Friday. But that middle-aged guy with a beer gut standing next to you at the gas station? Fuck him. What's he ever done for you?

I'm not sure if people think it takes more effort to be nice to people but I can tell you straight up that it does not. In fact, it probably takes more effort to be a dick. Think about it: All those hours you wasted trolling the internet, hacking facebooks and ruining people's lives by uploading their personal information onto public forums (activities which do not benefit you in any way, just by the way) could be spent volunteering at an animal shelter or bringing cake to that lonely lady who lives next door.

Yes it's true that being too nice can lead to being taken advantage of but... I mean, seriously, that's only if you let it happen. There's a good divider between the worlds of Nice and Doormat. I'm certainly not telling you to actively worry about the moods of others, strangers or otherwise, but it really only takes a fraction of brain power to consider them... and that's really all anyone could ask of you. It's not a weakness and it sure as shit ain't rocket science to not actively try to be a douchebag and so I'm still trying to understand why I got cut off in traffic today. Twice.

Closure: I get it... but then I don't get it.

A friend recently came to me with a query. It seemed a pretty standard "duh" sort of question until I reminded myself that not everyone has the great misfortune of living inside my head and, thus, does not over-analyze situations that haven't even been presented. Because I just have that kind of free time.

Perhaps some back story is in order.

A year ago, my friend was seeing a girl and ended up breaking things off due to her inability to be anything other than an insufferable bitch to anyone she had no reason to be nice to. I had once heard a saying that went,
"A person reveals their true nature by the way they treat the people they don't need in life."
As far as I'm concerned, the notion rings true and my friend took it to heart. Like a good boy.
Long story short, he kicks this girl to the curb and cuts all ties with her. Fast forward a year and she shows up out of the blue to make an apology before she leaves to start a life in another state. And I mean the whole spiel; the lengthy and detailed apology, the "you really changed my life" speech, the melodramatic good-bye kiss that even Casablanca would roll its eyes at. This girl had practiced.

So here's my friend, standing like a deer in a headlights because he can't figure out what the hell just occurred. I explained to him that the girl needed closure and she chose to do it in the most soap opera-esque way she could on such short notice. We chuckled at the nonsense of it all and resumed our previous conversation on quantum mechanics.

However, I found myself thinking (this can only end well) about my own past regrets and how I had wronged those who did not deserve it. Yes, the connections had been severed between them and myself but I could still find them if I had tried. Perhaps I lack the flare for drama that girl possessed or maybe I simply didn't care enough (and considering how often I lie awake at night and brood over past transgressions, I'd bet money on the former) but I never went back and made amends.

How necessary is closure? I've certainly done alright without going too far out of my way for it but I wonder if it'd bring me that peace of mind thing that everyone likes to go on about. Apparently it's a good sleeping aid; I don't know.

I'd have to think of a tactful way to do it, too. Should I drive the 6 hours to my hometown, show up at the doorstep of everyone I've made mistakes with and say, "Hey, remember that time I fucked up? My bad." Something tells me I'd get some confused stares and a couple doors slammed in my face. I don't even think my friend completely accepted the aforementioned girl's apology; he seemed more taken aback than forgiving.

I realize that people all make mistakes, whether it's being a dick to others for the sake of doing so or hurting someone when you didn't mean to. Something tells me I never sought forgiveness because I didn't feel I was owed any and would feel presumptuous asking for it. Then again, it might have been worth the effort.

Do they deserve an apology? Yes. But there's that stubborn pride, prodding me in the back of the head again and whispering, "They're just going to laugh at you. Don't bother." I only wish I'd realized sooner that there's something that rings louder in my ears than pride. "Hi, Dani? It's karma. Guess who has jury duty."