There's nothing like a holiday season to make you think of all that you should be doing or should have accomplished by the end of this year. Christmas movies and the smell of freshly baked gingerbread are supposed to make you feel all warm and cozy inside with a hint of hopeful cheeriness.
Yeah, well, I have a feeling that ends when you're about 11 years old. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying the smell of gingerbread doesn't bring to mind warmth and sweetness-- it does-- it just also brings the vision of dimpled thighs slapping together. Yes, my dimpled thighs. And holiday movies are always wonderful, but unfortunately after an hour and forty-five minutes you have to go back to real life, which means it's probably cold where you are, if you've got kids one of them probably has the sniffles, you're worried about the end of the year bills, and the "where should I be on New Years Eve?" factor always comes in if you're constantly dreaming of making it bigger and better each year.
It's a stressful time of year.
And worst of all, all I want to do is comment.
Yep, I'm a mad commenter. That's all I've been thinking about the past month. As I write my screenplay and edit, my psyche has been dreaming of a world-- maybe ancient Rome?--where there would be paid commentors. Yes, just like court jesters, but with a higher salary and better accomodations. As a professional commentator I would follow people around and comment on the daily events, and I would undoubtedly be witty and at times profound. And always humorous, because life needs a little humor. However, neither one of my siblings would ever be allowed to visit me on the job because they both stand by the fact that I'm not funny.
And when they do that, I commentate. And I find this witty and funny. And they usually just exit the room.
Anyway.
At some point I hope to get my head out of the clouds and either permanently on paper (i.e. columnist) or better yet as a famous movie star extraordinaire who no one really knows. The plan is to be rather like Johnny Depp. Be silently beautiful and fabulous with a penchant for drinking red wine and smoking cigarillos while sporting a few well-placed but meaningful tatoos which my evening gowns would coyly hint at when I'm walking down the red carpet.
Oh yes, I have plans. But, sometimes I just get distracted.
Or, I'm always distracted. Hmm...
All I know is that while I was supposed to be writing and was instead listening to Dane Cook's comedy of awesomeness this morning, he mentioned that all men dream of being part of a super cool heist ala "Ocean's 11". And I dream of that too. Except I never actually am part of the heist. I'm just the female version of Brad Pitt to some gorgeous and thoughtful George Clooney. I am extremely well-dressed but look as if I rolled out of bed looking that stunning. I think of grand schemes and I have a group of rough and lovely people who are like my family, but not. That is what I was dreaming of this morning when I was refining my resume and sending out little tid bits to casting directors. OOOh, I would love to be part of Ocean's 11. Yes, yes I would.
Oh, and I also dream of world peace...
Anyway.
We were talking about the holidays. And the fact that I just can't stop commentating. I think I have proved my point by now. On the commentating bit, I mean.
But yes, the holidays. I've been reading and listening to every bit of New Years tidbits that every magazine and self-help guru has to offer this season. The advice ranges from making New Years resolutions to starting a new diet to just taking baby steps to a better you.
All of this is good.
Last year I made the resolution to "be happy" and by March I thought: "What the f*@& does that mean?" Yep. I began commentating on myself, which gets awkward when I'm in a supermarket aisle having a good ole argument with myself--especially when all the other super market shoppers just saw me dancing with my cart down aisle 2 (I love dancing in supermarkets, because they undoubtedly are playing some sort of 80s excellence. I also enjoy serenading myself or a can of green beans, like that one time when Albertson's was playing Air Supply's "I'm All out of Love" and every friggin' person from aisle 1 to 10 was mouthing the words soulfully to themselves-- that's awesome too.) Anyway, seeing me happy dance in aisle 2 and then seeing me verbally kick myself in the aisle by the string cheese only leaves people assuming that I am bipolar. When I am really just a fabulously out of work commentator. Crap.
This holiday season I wish many things for my readers (who I hope are still out there, still checking on this bit of blogosphere). But, mainly I do wish one thing and that is to be happy. Yes, I realize I just went on about how I didn't know what that meant. It's because I really don't know what it means.
For some it may just mean getting those monthly expenses down so that it doesn't haunt every step or sip of coffee you take. For others it may be achieving some sort of career status, a slight improvement that says you're worth something, and that you are capable of doing something right. And for some it just might be that you need to be content with yourself.
And for all of us, I think the main struggle is truly knowing what we want in life.
It's easy to get confused with that last one. Often what we want in life is imposed upon us by so many outside factors. What we want to be, where we want to live, what we want to do with our free time, and how we can be the best we can be. I have a feeling that if we just figure out exactly what we want-- it doesn't matter when we really get it. It's that clarity of mind, that inner purpose-- that true dream that helps us get out of bed in the morning and it fills us with a sense of adventure.
I recently got some good advice that was simple and to the point: 1) Decide what your goal is. 2) Write out the steps to get there. 3) Get started.
It's very simple. And no one needs to follow those steps more than myself. I just lamented for the first half of this blog that it isn't possible for me to be a court commentator slash super cool legal heist participant, plus be a movie star and maybe also a princess all at once.
But more than anything, I want that clear path. I'd like it wrapped up under the tree in sparkly silver paper with a big white bow. And I'd also like a puppy for Christmas. I would name her "Lady" and we would be bestest friends. But, that's present number two. (And yes, I know your purpose in life doesn't come wrapped up with a bow--that was me being funny, okay?)
When you figure out exactly what you want--that's yours to keep. If you get it, hold on tight to it. It's like what Curly says in City Slickers-- the secret to life is one thing. You have to figure out what that one thing is. And you can't figure it out for anyone else-- you can only figure it out for yourself. That's your gift.
Besides, you need to focus on getting the people in your house interesting Christmas gifts.
I'm going to get my little brother something fun like a t-shirt signed by Metallica.
I'm going to get my sister a Snuggie. Because she pissed me off this week.
Happy, Happy Holidays.
Hug your family-- be thankful for them. Drink Eggnog-- it's yummy. And figure out what you want. What your one thing is. It might be sitting right in front of you.
And how great would that be?
"New year, same goal." -Joe King
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