I stand alone in the middle of my living room.
the multi-colord lights that adorn my small christmass tree and drape the sliding glass door throw a warm hue acorss the room and ofer the only bit of comfort I can find in this house by myself.
Not even my bed is comfortable anymore.
I stand now, among the lights that used to hang in my bed room in Columbia - but that was a past life.
Tonight I have been crying off and on as I try and watch a movie that does not remind me it is Christmas.
At this point I do not care what day it is.
Three burbon and cokes into the night and I do not care that tonight is the point of no return into 2007. Tonight is the night that we signify family, togetherness and all that rot.
Tonight, I am alone and i sit with my Wild Turkey and think about this year.
I think about how i have fucked up and how those around me have only mitigated my actions to make me more bitter...more hard. They have made me this awful human who does not care about dead pets and family members who are sick.
This is me, today.
As I shed the last gut-wrenching throes of this year, I find myself wretching at what I wittnessed this evening. I find myself destroyed emotionaly at what I had to quietly watch and digest without the slighest of understanding.
Not even the the cloest of allies- fuck you Switzerland - would hear of this breaking news event. It would fall on the deaf ears of our leaders and play out before the blind of its constitutiency.
Every year my Dad'side of the family has a party on Christmas Eve to share presetns and tales of the year. Its an odd group that gets together. They all came from the most abject of poverty and now strive to be something more.
But those who remember living in a one-room apartment in Hayes, Kansas, with three children no longer have the mental capacity to share the tales - and so we are left with the family who slaves in the corporate world the erase the past.
Tonight, I came with the same disrespect for this side of the family that I usually have.
I no longer talk to my father. We stopped last May when I turned 22 and he filed papers delcaring me no longer his son.
Tonight was an exercise to show that I could shrug off any emotion and just show up. I came to the white elephant gift exchange with a copy of Sunday's newspaper - singed by me.
It was joke - just like me.
It was something to laught at. "He signed an issue of the paper he is not even in," they were supposed to say. "How quaint, how hilarious"
But at the end of the night I saw my dad clamoring to get that issue of The Kansas City Star. That thing I brought as a novelty of my own laughable exsistance.
He wanted it. He clutched it and did not even remove the bow I had hastily tied to it. He honored it and was touched by the joke I had inscribed acorss the front page.
It was nothing to me, but he wanted it. It was the only gift I gave him this Christmas.
As I drove the dark passages from his home to my own sudenly felt the dark pangs that I probably should have felt back in May.
He missed out on so many things these pasy 7 months. New jobs, new people, new experiences.
I sit here at 2 a.m. missing my dad. but not the man I say diving into the gift bag searching for my signed copy of the paper - I do not know that man.
Oh, but what do you care. We all have our issues with our fathers. I guess I only wish had issues...I really, at this point, have nothing.
Nothing but an old man who cherishes a newspaper that I singed.
I guess that makes me lucky.