Maybe It's Me....

It's not always easy to admit your faults, though there are those times when it's a very difficult task. Generally I try to account for my own actions, and I think that, for the most part, I do a pretty good job of it. Although, there is one colossal f*cktard that, through no fault of my own, was the direct cause of a great deal of my consternation over the last several years, and that magnanimous pricksh*t can eat hot death with arsenic sprinkles. And then there is that certain female friend of mine that made me get my last tattoo. 

(*ahem* She made you get a tattoo? Really?)

Yes. It's all her fault. *whistling* Carrying on…. I bring this up because we are now knee deep in the holiday season which, for me, kinda sucks rocks. I used to love the holidays, from the turkey and gravy and my sister's green bean casserole on Thanksgiving, to the twinkling lights of the garland and wreath hung outside my front door, to decorating the tree while sipping eggnog and listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas album. Now, well, just get me to January 2^nd, pleaseandthankyou. 

Before you go calling me a Scrooge and casting bah humbug aspersions in my general direction, Let me explain… the months of November and December have been decidedly less than fantastic for me over the last several years. These months include the Christmas Eve anniversary of a dear relative's death, the anniversaries, and yes, plural anniversaries, of the demise of relationships, and even the what-could-have-been New Year's Eve wedding anniversary of a failed marriage.

(Holy crapballs, dude. That’s a lot of sh*tty anniversaries.)

It is indeed. I'm not saying this to garner pity, it simply is my life. There's a great deal more to add to it, but I figured that alone should give you the gist of my general state or merriment malaise when it comes to the holidays. Now I can blame ex-wives/girlfriends/God/Obama/Bush/the blonde upon whom I had a crush in high school, but when it all boils down, the common denominator is, well, me, leading me to this thought:

Well, sh*t. Maybe it's me, after all.

Some of you would typically jump in at this point and tell me I'm great and it's not me and yadda yadda blah blah blah, and I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but let's take a page out of 11^thgrade chemistry – all chemical reactions require the interaction of at least two elements. Or, in layman's terms, it takes two to tango. The point is that I am, at least in part, responsible for my lot in life. I cannot place the blame squarely on others, as it is my reaction to their actions, or vice versa, that creates the volatile web of craptasticiness in which I'm ensnared.

(Craptas… Ok, uncle. I give up on the made up-words.)

Really? It took you this long? Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess I was just doing a lot of thinking last night as this weekend had some good highs and some bad lows. I was a direct participant in all of it. My actions, conscious or otherwise, helped to create those highs and lows, directly or indirectly. Take this, for example; I've pretty much boycotted Christmas the last couple years. In 2012 I ran away, traipsing off to Washington, DC to lose myself in solitude on Christmas Day and avoid dealing with the aftermath of the emotional avalanche that had befallen me that year. Last year, I spent a good portion of Christmas Day hospitalized with a mutant form of bronchitis. I still think it was the Ebola, but I digress… Anywhoos… This year, I decided that I would re-embrace the Christmas spirit and put up a Christmas tree.

Now, I must admit, the act of doing so was an emotional one, and honestly kinda sucked for a bit. When I was finished, though, I stood back and reveled at the display of holiday spirt I'd just created. Right up until… Well, imagine this imaginary conversation between me and the resident canine:

Me: *smiling, steps off stool to admire tree, takes two steps backwards, soaks sock-covered foot in warm, mushy carpet-puddle* Son of  Nutcracker!!!!

Canine: Oh, by the way, while you were busy ignoring me and putting a tree, in our house, three feet up on the landing over the stairs where I can't reach it, I expressed my displeasure at being ignored, and the fact that I can neither sniff nor chew the tree, by peeing on the carpet next to the end table.*tilts head, wiggles butt, looks cute*

Me: *angry stare*

(Bwaaaahaaaahaaaaaaa!!!!!!!)

That's not funny! 

(Dude, that is totally, unequivocally funny as hell.)

You come clean it up, then.

(Touché, pussycat.)

Yeah, that's what I thought. But see what I mean? One could say that the dog whizzing on the rug was not my fault at all, But it was, you see, because I ignored her whilst decorating the tree. Stupid tree. Stupid Christmas!!!! 

(That's a bit harsh.)

Fine. Maybe it is. I'm just tired of the holiday season sucking rocks. It would be nice to have a Christmas miracle this year. That's all I'm saying.

(Then make it happen.)

What are you, my mother? 

(Maybe. Does she read this?) 

I honestly don't know. God help me if she does, though.  She already thinks I'm weird. Look, I'm trying. I have issues, I know that. I'm not perfect, I know that, too. And I know that as much as I try, sometimes I can't express myself the way I probably should. But at the same time, sometimes others don't try to understand me the way I need to be understood, either. See, it takes two. Or more. Sometimes it takes a village, and all that crap. Whatever it takes, I cannot deny that I am at the center of my world and everything that happens in it happens, at least in part, because I let it, participated it, or outright did it myself.

(Like that time you almost got arrested by Canadian Mounties in Niagara Falls?)

That was a misunderstanding. And I was not "almost arrested." I was politely given a stern talking-to. And shut it, you!

(*snicker*)

So where am I going with all of this? I don't know. Sometimes, like Forrest Gump says, "it happens."

(What, sh*t?)

Thanks for scene-playing. Yes, that. It happens. That it happens more often than not during the holidays for me, well, yeah, I'm a part of that, but come on man. Maybe this year fate and I could come to some sort of arrangement whereby we make it through New Year's without another catastrof*ck.

(Okay, that is a great made up word. I'm using that one.)

You're welcome. I mean, I'm trying, I really am. I put up a tree, dammit! With lights an ornaments and everything! It's got everything from Han Solo to Captain Kirk to Caddyshack and Animal House ornaments on it. Heck, it even has Cold Miser! You know, I'm mister white Christmas, I'm mister snow….

(I'm mister icicle, I'm mister ten belo… oh, you right b*stard.)

That earworm? That's all me. I own that with pride. So now let us all go celebrate. Because… We're all in this together! This is a full-blow, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f*cking Kaye!!!

(What's the matter, Clark? Sh*tter full?)

Something like that. 

© 2014 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.