let it hail, let it hail, let it hail

I was up late because of Project Runway Night with P,C,&SR-L last night, and then my brain was whirling so much I that I couldn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. During the day, when my brain goes there (at least for the past two or three) I literally start to sing “There is No Arizona.” Reminding myself that there is nothing left of all I had, all I thought I would have. Strangely, it works. Focus on right now. The moment I have control over. The things that can soothe and help me function at that minute. Shove out all the memories that assail me constantly throughout the day, as soon as I realize they are reliving themselves, kill them, send them away. Rush to something else. However, these strategies seemingly do not work, or are at least much less effective, when my brain is in bed and trying to fall asleep. Maybe compensating for what it has lacked during the day, or in an act of open, rebellious, opposition it runs rampant with memories, theories, irrational hopes, and projections.
Such insanities have made me very tired this morning. Therefore, I made an offering to the happiness gods by stopping to worship at my Starbucks chapel. As the tall, thin, cute blond boy (could not be more opposite from ‘my type’—except for the tall part) handed me my Venti Pumpkin Latte, I nearly yanked my hand back in revulsion. Instead of the normal fairly plain white cup with all their ‘oh-so culturally and environmentally friendly’ writings, I was handed a maroonish-red container with a reindeer and Christmas baubles with wishes written all over them (cus wishing works—and other such ‘tactics’). There was one other Christmas I didn’t feel up to celebrating, but it was nothing like this. I’ve heard people bitch about how angry they get over Christmas starting so early. I have always hated those people. I wanted Christmas to start in July and just keep going. Now, I am those people. I don’t want to see wrapping paper or think about color schemes when I go the store. I don’t want to hear the music (it was being piped in over the sound system at Barnes&Noble the other day). I don’t want to see ads on TV. I don’t even wanna see the beautiful, magical snow cover the ground.
I want no holidays. Instead only long endless hours of sunlight and warmth, a monotonous daily routine that is uninterrupted by things to celebrate or be happy about. I want my coffee cup to be a pompous attempt to disguise materialism in the form of awareness and sensitivity. Scrooge was lame. He should’ve yanked Tiny Tim’s crutch from his trembling little fingers, laughed joyously as the little brat fell to the floor (while trying to find the brighter side of things I am sure), and then used him as a festive, low-hanging piñata.