Friday, December 31, 2010

Predicting--perhaps in vain--an actual celebration of the new year this year--and determined not to procrastinate in providing my yearly, deep memory-probing summation, I have embarked on this probefest just less than a fortnight in advance. Wandering outside my niche that is the Procrastinators Unite...Tomorrow Club seemed almost as insurmountable a feat as that of trying to intercalate a little IRL force between the cyberworld and its spellbound, most dutiful subject.

January was a month that commenced with further establishing regularship in a community--until a pivotal point had been reached, which compelled me to reinvest most of my time in what, at the time,had been my further-reaching social hub of nearly six years. As if the solitary way in which this new year was brought was supposed to signify a prognostication of what was to come for the rest of the year, I spiraled into a schizoidal haze.

Subarctic February interestingly found me doing some externalizing. Amongst a landfill of papers and a number of books that would have beflustered even the most maniacal of bibliomaniacs, I established a venue for my own humble, runway-lacking, home-based photo shoot in Milan/the other idyllic locations for the aspiring/burgeoning/stagnant/lifetime-sub-par model. The fact that none of these pictures were necessarily shared with the cybermasses does not corroborate my claim of externalizing, but my entire month was not consumed by this narcissistic indulgence. Nay, for there was still a pending Mission: Very Possible and Should Have Been Easy--something that I was to fulfill before the addition of another annum to my age. Thankfully, it was accomplished, and it very much required venturing out amongst the hoi polloi (and numerous excursions to the campus of my alma mater).

This social expansion was not limited to the realm of real life; a friend of mine was incorporating her posts from another social website into her Facebook profile. On the second day of February, I meandered to this website called Tumblr, which certainly was not in its nascence by the time at which the curious threshold was reached. Seeing that it transcended the banal microblogging experience of less-than-or-equal-to 140 characters, I promptly boarded the Tumbling train. Immensely unimpressed with the demographics and content seen, pangs of regret started fulminating--until these pangs of regret were transposed to creative energy: Instead of fleeing the Tumbling train, I decided to utilize it for its consolidated and more easily accessible macroblogging features. This new website was to be a vault of sorts--and to an extent, a means to achieve social expansion.

In the midst of these social expanionist attempts, however, one whom I had considered a friend was lost--thanks to his mistranslation of something that was supposed to be nothing more than a joke, and to my mistranslation of the sincerity behind something that he had said. He was intransigent in believing that I wished to cause him distress, despite my having tried to explain that there was also misinformation from his end (and despite my having apologized to him). I was subsequently--and rather swiftly--embargoed, which hurt even more than his intransigence.

Two weeks later, I was ignoring the fact that it was my birthday. It had nothing to do with that which I summarized in the preceding paragraph; it had to do with the fact that I generally wish not to reflect on my age or senescence. It was spent in the science library of my alma mater, and I brought in the new "age" with a rather late celebration in the twilight hours. (This almost didn't happen due to setbacks from lack of coordination.)

I also must not leave out the fact that February was It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia month, which kept me buoyed during any of the trying times that I had. It was also the month that a friend of mine from Korea introduced me to Whitney Houston's historic rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner, which not only made me wish to be able to remember that day but also made me listen to other renditions of the song and realize that her rendition really is historic. Thanks to my friend Angela, and much gratitude to YouTube for making my 29834723984273928 views of the video possible.

March also comprised many calls upon YouTube and an even further externalization, but this was the month that I learned that I was reminded that limits still doth verily exist. Noctivagant nights were a-plenty, as were the nights passed in Rock N' Roll McDonald's and the Dunkin' Donuts within the periphery of my alma mater's campus. All the while, these were flanked with occasional returns to the place of stay. This seemed to be very much an ideal situation, but there was no influx to compensate for the pecuniary efflux--the consequences of which I suffered by the closing of the month.

This month certainly confirmed how frustratingly unreliable, rude, wholly immature, &c., people in this city really are--indiscriminate of age (though it does seem that there happens to be an ironically inverse relationship between age and maturity). From shady Canadian visitors, to shady natives (very sadly, notably all of Hispanic origin) about the city and its outskirts. There were those who enjoyed themselves; there were those who merely feigned enjoyment. There was fickledom; there was determination. This month was nonetheless full of experiences, breaching the limits of my comfort zone, and pan-directional travels, even though I was left nearly penurious from it. Subsequently I was sentenced to indefinite domestication, a situation which was very much similar to that of landing on Square 87 in Chutes & Ladders (to be honest, it was worse.)

As if by prophecy, the month of April was very much worse. This year's April Fool's Day underwent a slump in the department of tales of chicanery worth recounting, but that was a mere trifle when placed up against my other woes of April. The month started with me barely surviving through what ended up being a weeks-long bout with strep throat--sans the medicinal fortification, and very much with what felt like a transversely-dissected throat and very few by whom to be distracted. One of those whom wished to retry a connection, though I was rather reluctant to shoulder what really was the blame which he well deserved to shoulder. I proceeded to attempt to take up any interest in that which he liked, in that which was transpiring in his life. I could not simply discard the fact that he so suddenly transferred the acrid remnants of having been victimized by duplicitousness in his past indiscretions, onto me; I therefore passively fought back with (passive) countertransference (this of course had an effect on the trajectory of our [platonic] relationship.)

Unfortunately this person was not the limit to Aloofing April. Nay, for as intolerance accumulated against the platitudes, the Foursquare updates that subsequently had me in schadenfreudal reverie, and the other insufferable cybersocial peccadilloes that--once aggregated--created a noticeable effect, I started making great use of the tool that basically allows one to disregard a 'friend's' existence whilst not snipping him or her from one's tree of compeers. However, one fine 13th day of the month at hand, the logistics of my more distant--and what had become more recently, my more proximal--social life had been abruptly ceased. All in all, my social life had undergone a brutal asphyxiation for reasons that, to this day, remain unclear. In relation to many other incensed investors in the site (very few to none of whom had been with the site since its more germinative phase in the cybersphere), I received a rather prompt--though not satisfactorily prompt--response. Subsequent to very little correspondence following the initial gesture of dissent (with perhaps a nearly negligible pinch of conciliatory tone), a message template had handed me my sentence of eternal banishment from its superstructure. Furibund as fuck by this fuckery, this social confidant of mine of six years quickly became the object of my apodiabolosis; I turned to wishing that its own intrinsic inadequacies would lead to its implosion and into the binary matrix.

Little solace was taken in Curb Your Enthusiasm, most of which I had finished anyway, but there was some solace in Brothers and Sisters. Computer games such as Zuma and Yahoo's Typer Shark and Graffiti--as well as the video vault that is YouTube--were also minor attenuants of my internally effervescing ire. To end what was a sense of cybersocial roninhood, I proceeded to the still relatively newly-found social network of Tumblr. Forced to commingle amongst the Tumbling masses, the discovery that the site is not monopolized by Americans or those whose only languages are English and All-Too-Mundanese, was made. My follower base grew at a glacial (approximately less-than-one per month) rate, which was not a problem to me; my followed base grew at a less glacial pace.

I also turned to my journaling base of olde in order to occupy my time (and possibly, despite the 1.0 x 10-4.3229387239 odds, to diversify my sociality). The parenthetical motive actually led to rather fruitful results, for I happened to stumble upon this years-old community (I believe that it was at the end of this month) that, from my comeback experience with the site, seemed to be the cohesive hub of the site.

All in all, it was Aloof April, Asphyxiation, Anoxic, and Anodynic April, all in one. Fortunately, April ended on a noticeably less negative account.

This pull out of the Negative continued into May. Prospects of returning to the land of a million boy bands, sidewalk pizzas, samgyeopsal, and generously high purchasing power for the way-guks, seemed quite likely; more international users of Tumblr were being encountered (helping me transition more smoothly to the site); springlike weather was rolling in to this place; and my posts were Farsi-, Arabic-, and Mandarin-rich. These were very much effective pulls out of the Negative, but naturally I was being pushed back into the Negative Abyss by a counterforce, which was the aggregate of a number of component forces:

Though it was a Farsi-rich month, an Iranian whom I have encountered left me disappointed with him. An interest in actually going to Iran and knowing some Farsi was inadequate when it came to me. Fortunately, this didn't leave an indelible mark on my view of Iranians.

A great portion of Tumblr's constituency was making me bewail hard over the fact that this country even has a Generation Z.

Though the warm weather was rolling in, it was more of a dip in and out of this city, which caused the surfacing of the extent of my poikilothymia. This month was more pluviose than the previous one, and with much gratitude to global warming, "April showers bring May flowers" seems to have been rendered insubstantial. From the 70s to the 30s--and then trespassing into the 80s, the May weather was nothing but a joker, largifical in its teasing.

Fortunately, sporadic vexations were tempered with Brothers & Sisters (that is, until having fully caught up in the series), jpgs of males that made the ovaries snap-crackle-pop, employment of Paintbrush, and the warm, more summery days that came toward the end of the month. Complementing the change in weather was a cross-world spring cleaning: I rearranged furniture and replaced old furniture with new furniture; I also partially organized my compilation of bookmarks on Firefox that I have saved over the years. Furthermore, I spring cleaned the ire and vexation that was clogging my mind from the wintry days of olde (well, I spring cleaned that to the best of my ability.)

Recidivism by reverting to squandering my not-that-valuable time on cammy divos need not be mentioned here. :}

June was a very Tumbleful month. I employed the reeks-of-gratis Paintbrush application on my Macbook, which I used to spring my Around the World and Chinese character plans in motion. Looking absolutely rudimentary in skill and organization, I proceeded to produce these basic Paintbrush works (if they are even worthy of being deemed as such).

This was also a month of many excursions to the much more local library, which is in every way far inferior to that of my alma mater. (Occasionally, out of total ennui with my surroundings, roaming would extend to as far as, wait for it, Target.) Owing to an accrued sum of fees over the years that was sufficiently beyond my at-the-time very anemic budget line, however, access and transport of materials was limited to the confines--the very arctic confines--of the bibliothèque. Being 40% fine/60% in internal protest, there was solace to be found in the numerous occasions of daisy-pickings and the more generous (but equally humble) photo shoots, the more aestival-esque weather that called for the according dress (i.e. shorts/capris and short-sleeved shirts, sunglasses), and the songs on my iPod, without which the summer season would not have sometimes had me in an elevated mood.

Also noteworthy of this month would be my making the acquaintance of someone with whom I had connected in this world of zeros and ones, the commencement of the World Cup games and the extreme fandomry that comes with it, and my sale of a gift card that uplifted me out of the zero:

Years ago, back in the earlier days during which I was convinced that I would soon find a suitor, I had sporadic opportunities to converse with a particular man: he was considerably, but not absurdly, older; he was also a rather taken man, which I regretted though respected. After about an annual or a biennial catching up of five minutes, we had started conversing again earlier in the year. This month, we actually enjoyed a nice lunch at a nearby place, and we walked along the bike trail when we met for the second time--that is, until the sky darkened 10 minutes into the walk and had us sprinting to his car in fears of an oncoming twister. (That was very likely the equivalent of five minutes of a day at the gym for him; it was the equivalent of two years' time at the gym for my weeish self.) We retreated to Borders until the twister-less deluge subsided and I was escorted home like a proper lady. asldkadhwoih

Not much can be said about the World Cup, for I was never a particular follower of it--and that went unchanged this year. I did sport the little 조선 flag by my thumbnail picture for the entirety of the World Cup, however, even when the team was sent home.

This month had a rather rocky conclusion. I was able to sell a gift card at a discounted price of $150, which was done because the cash would be more useful than the store at which the gift card was intended to be used. +$150 = rejoice! However, the stupid adapter for my Macbook (and its cord) had taken a turn for the defunct. So, after having gone to help my mother move some items out of my grandmother's house, I had to subject myself to a $90 pauperization in order to recharge the battery of and regain access to my Macbook. Though I was still in the positive, I was still $90 less in the positive.

The month of July started off with me being $60 in the positive. I had wished to spend some time down on my alma mater's campus and in the downtown area, but I was still assisting in packaging and moving items out of my grandmother's house. Anticipation of the upcoming Fourth of July celebration also suppressed my urges to squander my money on an excursion to the fulcrum upon which what iotic amount of sanity that remains from living in this state, teetered.

For as much as I had been anticipating the coming of the Fourth of July, I felt as if it was an overall fail. On the eve of the holiday, a last-minute journey was made to Aldi, slightly besmeared in barbecue grease. Last-minute libations and ingredients for my well-appreciated mojitos were needed, but of course this didn't go without some rude encounter on the way by some jackanapish nicaroons.

The eve of the holiday being rather hellish in other ways, the holiday itself was rather short-lived. There verily was consumption and (most of the time) fun, but it lasted for a mere three hours--rather truncated compared to what sometimes would be ten or eleven hours during my childhood years. This was a huge disappointment, and I wished to escape to the downtown area after everyone had left. I only ever ventured as far as one of my neighbors' house--and the park for a vespertinal walk. So disappointed I was that I even went to bed at 10 p.m., being unable to remember when the last time that had happened.

This was the most Tumbleful month to date. Having started one of those 30-Day challenges that I had regretfully started and was determined to finish, I was also determined to retain and regain that which I have learned in the lingual department, I started several "projects" that I had hoped would ensure my retention of that which I absorbed--and of that which had been lost in this nebulous mind of mine. There were flashcards; there were Paintbrush jpgs. The time-comsumptive factor was a quick turnoff and discouraged any long-run plans that I had had for it.

Though I was rather active (the most active I have thus far been) on Tumblr, I also started investing more in a community elsewhere. I would venture to say that a more befitting term would be "trolling", but my comments were quite reflective of my more hidebound opinions. Flamearrowing such glorified shows as True Blood--and such deified divas as Lady Gaga--I partook in this little pastime of beflustering those caring enough to read my comments and allow themselves to become beflustered. This little pastime developed from a weekly one to a more than once-a-weekly one, and then it took a turn for the more-or-less daily--the consuetudinal. Though this community was no addiction, there most certainly was self-spite as a consequence of volitionally increasing participating in a community whose interests differed greatly from mine. (The magnetism was effected from the gifs, the torpedoing, the internet patois, and the city community-that-never-sleeps factor--something for which I had been searching on that site.)

While I was rather cyberly active, I also had a spurt of IRL activeness as well! Toward the end of the month, I had the pleasure of visiting my alma mater's campus for the first time in three months. I found it to be a more pleasant experience in the summertime--at least in the library. (Yes, given the summertime weather, I chose to spend my time in the library that I ever so often glorify.) I can recall being so elated that I was finally out of the vacuum of an area in which I was living, even if just for a little while. I even captured my elation around campus and in the library. Even though the library is open in the summertime, the main library isn't as generous with its hours as the science library. So I remember going to eat at a local Chinese take-out, and at some point I had gone downtown, but this much isn't as vivid (no, I hadn't imbibed.) To summarize, what happened for the rest of my visit to the campus/downtown area: peregrinating to the uranian Mecca of the city, being subjected to a nocturnal torrential downpour in said peregrination, watching All My Children in the Subway in said mecca for a few hours, meandering about the general area, peregrinating back to the downtown area, being hindered by an infernal pain in my feet (leading to frequent stops and lag in pace), sojourning in the all-too-familiar Rock 'N Roll McDonald's, metropolitan meandering (which included a stumbling upon various protests regarding the Middle East conflicts), capturing explosive photos of the filming of Transformers 3, transiting back to campus, stumbling upon some sort of local cultural fair, passing the rest of the day in the library, passing some late-hour time in the science library, relocating to the 24-hour Dunkin' Donuts, returning to spend several hours in the main library, and finally returning back to aforementioned vacuum. Again depleted, I returned to the pre-enablement regressed state, and such is the conclusion of my July.

Nearly similar to April was August (and I don't think that that is due to both of the months beginning with 'A'.) The 30-Day Challenge to which I had obligated myself to completing finally came to an end toward the beginning of the month--as did the end of my androgynistic (at the least) presence on Tumblr. A couple of fine-tuned Tumbleteers had known already what it is that I am, but I was anonymous in more than just name, age, and any other aspect save perhaps nationality (I'm sure that people took me to be of a non-American--or non-Western--nation as well.)

In addition to embarking on a Japanese tutorial(-ish) project, there was a burst of reblogs of purveyors of fine Japanese pulchritude (of the male persuasion). Surprisingly none of these reblogs resulted in conception. /: They did result, however, in the realization that I was having nostalgic pangs over having been disconnected from my network of compeers. Tumbling only provided so much filling for this vacuousness left by my unjust banishment. Where else was there to go, though?

Well, in order to compensate even further for this unfilled cavity and the relapse into nothingness, my participation in the community of star-apotheosizing teams only became more of a habituation. Some from this community decided to take things to the next level via a radio show, which somewhat inspired some to move on and form a community based on this new show and the original community. As one more familiar would have expected, this new community of sorts comprised the conceited, those who were there for the conviviality (some probably there for the possible mamm show too, but that's irrelevant), and even the somewhat deranged. This was toward the end of the month, and I immediately started frequenting this new community; my Tumblr presence became less frequent because of it. Amongst the vitriol and begrudging that was in the binary air, I am proud to say that I was one who had the opportunity to exercise latitudinarian governance. Gravitated toward this drama-saturated community, I quickly became more of a regular and came to think that I had perhaps found my niche.

(Paintbrush was also supplanted by Photoshop--for the much better--in August.)

Even more time was being dumped into this possibly newly-found niche, for my time elsewhere has been greatly reduced in the month of September: the new community and the Twitter, AIM, and Skype that I had created as ancillaries served as expressions of commitment; moreover, my journaling was reduced and mostly comprised reports of dreams that I had had, one of which included those from the community.

During these times, disaster was wrought upon my life: My Macbook had become comatose, with seemingly very slim chances of ever being awakened. I had been having problems with the cooling fan making noises whose intensity could have matched that of a helicopter--or an ailing car engine. In addition, any video-related media would cause my computer to cease functioning--and rather abruptly so.

One un-fine morning, as I was playing House and operating on my laptop, the removal of the keyboard and keyboard connector caused complications (i.e. when plugged back into the motherboard, there was no output from the keyboard. With my emotions and moods in disarray, I tried to remedy this situation at least, to no avail. Proceeding to the Dell desktop, I ransacked the internet for any information regarding the keyboard connector and its known problems. Nothing helped.

Truncating this story, I shall summarize the two weeks that followed: I was reduced to utilizing a Dell desktop; the weather kept teetering between the seasons when I was ready for Autumn's three-month stay; the Mortal Kombat: Armageddon thrill was subsiding; I searched high and low for my old Sony Vaio laptop (which wouldn't have come close to serving as a substitute anyway); my Chinese character quest not only continued but intensified; I started investing some of my superabundant time in watching foreign films; my Macbook was revived. Yes, that last segment was read correctly. The only problem was that the keyboard was died; the motherboard, however, was not. Just the twist of a screwdriver powers up the computer. Elated I was, for I was very much like a mother bewailing the terminal illness that had taken hold of her child. Knowing that my Macbook was not terminally ill, I was consumed with the elation of a mother learning that her child is going to live to grow up and sire her grandchildren after all. (My laptop, to this day, is survived by a USB-based mouse and keyboard--R.I.P. original keyboard/ innard-cover.)

So elated I was that I reconnected with the community after a days-long hiatus taken somewhat for the sake of being busy trying to be taken up into the wings of my alma mater. In spite of the loose-screwed and the randoms that appeared at our "doorstep" of sorts--and in spite of all the deaths through which I had gone from the laughter, this community was far from stable. The medium through which we were connected is also what served as personal demarcations. As is only natural in an environment that allows for identity cloaking, someone breached personal demarcations--and, to be honest, that someone flew into the subhuman zone. I will only say that, whoever that subhuman was, s/he deserves something equally calamitous in his/her life. After what had happened (and the schism that it officially caused at the end of the month), I seriously considered leaving this lot of people.

The beginning of October found me split between the factions that had formed from within the community. Either a Quisling amongst what was supposed to be the "safer" community--or one ireful one who was very much offended by a lack of an invitation to the 'gated' community--took whatever vendetta was held with one person and targeted people never involved in the community; s/he took it to Facebook and took the liberty upon him/herself to divulge information about this person that was not his or hers to divulge whatsoever. Following this incident, I remained in the 'gated' community for a few days, after which I decided to leave for good--sans any unwarranted notice. I could just as easily have become a target of whoever is responsible for having caused rifts in that person's real life; I therefore escaped before the chance was too easy for that to happen (even though I, like this person, lacked a Facebook account.)

Fortunately, after my former high school's annual Oktoberfest (on a 75-degree day of awkwardness), a months-long tease, a return to Tumblr of sorts, and the arrival of the 13th (not a Friday), I stumbled upon this email from Facebook telling me that I have basically been revived. I believe that I had been told this before, just to have found that it was indeed a tease of a message; this time, after venturing to the site, I found that this message was indeed no tease! On that day I was indeed revived. To this day, I still have no idea why I had been asphyxiated in the first place by the powers that be of that site (my best theory is the "fake name" theory--even though my name was only in English [first name] and another language [surname].) Elated I was, for I had just left yet another community and was very much in need of this.

As a result of this providential revival, I took measures for the rest of the month that would ensure that any chances of account infiltration would be reduced (I still am of the opinion that my account may have been hacked.) Facebook 'friends' were ousted; privacy settings were configured to as close to the maximum as possible (at least to those not on my friends list); any friend requests of which I knew were undone. I felt uneasy being back, for I was under the notion that perhaps I had been chosen for revival rather inadvertently. Hesitant to update my status or even send a friend request (out of fears that the site's Big Brother was overseeing my every link clicked and every frame through which I scrolled), I was awaiting the day that I would be administered the metaphorical lethal injection without the possibility of revival ever again.

There were these fears that I instilled in myself, but it was still October: the month of Halloween! I had been very much looking forward to Halloween Day, because I was intent on participating this year (even more of an incentive was its falling on the first weekend day!) Clueless as to what I would want to be, however, I was at an impasse. Furthermore, as one in the state of penury, I was rather limited in regards to options. Making something (i.e. sewing something together) was a thought, but this proved to be a rather infeasible solution in the little amount of time that remained before the arrival of the day. So, to fast-forward to Halloween Day, as others planned and updated their statuses about these Halloween plans at an obnoxious rate, I resorted to making pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. I had become the quintessential middle-aged housewife.

Also in this month: I Arabicked and super-powered my Arabic database; I cut the final ties with the aforementioned community that I had let myself deem niche-like way too quickly; Twitter was made into a journal and to-do list via my new account; I caught up in Modern Family and Pretty Little Liars; two more foreign films were seen. All in all, October ended on a slightly bitter note.

November comprised much (continuing) anticipation of the upcoming holiday season. Unlike Halloween, I knew that I could rely on Thanksgiving to be celebrated. Furthermore, I was even more determined to be converted back into a utility--and to embark on my adventure in the realm of handiwork.

Neither of the two was accomplished. In the beginning of the month, there was a false alarm regarding the aforementioned conversion: there was a damning distance between the interested party and me, which would only be a problem for me in this country; this didn't change at later times in the month.

Also in this month, I made tables of characters--which still may be seen on the first page of this blog, and which have been very much neglected. My life also gained a 1up through the opportunity, with pride, to help a friend (even if in a most minor way) in pursuing that for which she is more than qualified and to which she can contribute.

November was also, naturally, a month of feasts and other edibles (and would-have-been edibles). There was so much canned pumpkin that remained from the first batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies that I had made, I was able to make a second batch with the remains about six days later. Furthermore, in anticipation of Thanksgiving, I had planned to prepare a cheesecake whose recipe was composed of extracts from two other recipes. This is the abovementioned would-have-been edible, for it wasn't made, thanks to the Betty Crocker cake mix cakes that were prepared instead.

My cheesecake notwithstanding, Thanksgiving Day turned out to be a wonderful, though fleeting, day. Yours Truly led the table in saying grace (after having libated for a while prior), and the upcoming Christmas season was brought in on a positive note. The Christmas decorations had been taken down nearly a fortnight prior (in rather intempestively warm conditions), and Black Friday would have been the day that the Christmas tree would have been set up and accordingly lit--had I not decided to take a holiday at the Procrastinators Unite...Tomorrow clubhouse for approximately four days.

On the night of the fourth day, in the twilight hour, she descended to the family room to erect the man-made, pre-lit tree of Christmas--adorning it with variegated decorations and becoming entangled in the meters and meters of additional strings of bulbs. Two hours later, the tree was complete, and she stood and beheld in awe at her own excellence--that majestic erection that she alone--with the neverending helping hand of the Lord above-- had perfected. Pictures were taken; pictures were posted, and this is what brought the month of December in so well.

December--the most wonderful time of the year for some--was a month of rocking, but it wasn't around the Christmas tree (or any Christmas tree); it was rocking around this 13" aperture to Beyond this vacuum. Online Christmas shopping for material items of pure reverie--and taking to sewing--were the two activities that were set in motion--despite my quagmiric hindrances in regard to the latter. Furthermore, I was continuing to spiral down the chute with ease--failing thus far at my goal to be an active participant in this year's Christmas season.

Meanwhile, the cyberworld was having a more active Christmas season than I was (it naturally had much more of one than I could ever dream of having): Amongst the season-long updates from those whose very beings were ring-jing-jingling more intensely than jingle bells, there was Tumblr's great downtime that inspired me to back up my entire blog elsewhere--and Facebook's Avogadro's number-th new look, which has included the implementation of non-optional ways to allow the more "inquisitive" of friends (and non-friends, for those who have opted to take the free bitch highway) to observe one's whereabouts and now whatabouts on the site.

I didn't merely watch these developments take place; I didn't merely stand back sit and observe everyone and everything have more of a Christmas season than me. (Though I did have to watch the temporal appropinquation to Christmas Day crush to death my long-anticipated plans for the season.) Nay, for I baked coffee brownies with green and red-food-colored frosting that failed to be expressed more than faintly; I assisted a neighbor (though the assistance ended up being very minuscule in degree) in lining her front door and porch with lights--and she insisted on providing me and the sir that assisted with what seemed to be a rather generous, holiday-inflated pecuniary compensation. Topping these two rather weak corroborations of my claim to a more active in the season is the time and digital dedication to the erection of a snowman (woman, technically). After having shoveled the inches of snow that had fallen within hours that day, I risked frostbite and, well, frostbite to finish what I had intended to be a snowman equaling me in stature.

She was all-but-melted the next day, but either that or a toppling by the local rapscallions had been expected. Fortunately, this was no foreboding of how Christmas Day or its eve was to pass, for each of these days passed quite wonderfully, even if fleetingly: Christmas Eve was a White Christmas Eve, and my grandmother spent it and the following day with the rest of my family (I even went to mass for the first time in what had been at least half a decade); Christmas Day was a White Christmas on the ground, with kitschiness in the air--and it rather naturally took a turn for the bacchic (a turn to which I contributed).

Fortunately, there wasn't that oft-accursed residual effect the following day, but there was a matutinal disruption in my slumber that delayed my return to Dreamland by about five or six hours--after which I was given a five-finger discount on the realization of how quickly Christmas really did come and go this year. I opened my presents (with a guilt that still hadn't waned since pre-Christmas Day) on the 27th, and I am currently waiting for the next approximately 340 days to pass.

In the meantime, the first year of the new decade is coming to a close. It is the eve of New Year's Eve, which means that this synopsis was finished early (i.e. before the start of the new year). Surely, this is a historic moment for me. With a new show (Bones), no new status in the corporate sector, and the recent severance by one whom I've considered one of my closest friends, I am heading into the new year. What still remains is to decide whether or not I am to go downtown to bring in this new year--in spite of what may be cardiac admonitions--in hopes that it would bring some sort of favorable outcome for the entire upcoming year.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

This week-long interstice between blogs updates is a symptom of recidivism, against which I will not necessarily invest too much in establishing mental sentinels. However, there is something in particular that I would like to leave in this blog:

I shall embark on a quest to make this at some point, since I didn't get to make this for a Thanksgiving dessert. :/

Saturday, December 04, 2010

This last month of the year has started off pretty well--despite its arrival inducing an internal lachrymofest, given my unchanged pecuniary/existential status. As Time seems to be stumbling and tumbling over itself in a marathon to Christmas Day, I am thus doing as such in achieving the means to become an actor in the holiday season.

Meanwhile, to shift the attention to a hotbed of scandal and corruption : Nigeria. Iran and America, interestingly enough, may be thanked for these times.