So it has been a fairly good morning. I got to drive to work again and this time I remembered to signal before changing lanes. Of course, that is a good thing since I started turning into that lane before I checked over my shoulder to make sure it was wise to continue on. Thought you'd all want to know. Forgot to post yesterday's thoughts though, brief as they were. I got distracted by shiny material and projects galore.

I did get a feepit this morning though. Yes, it's one of those cute critters surrounding today's entry. I get a little too into my neopets this time of year. They give away all sorts of cute little petpets. How could I resist that? This is normal behavior for an IMPress who built a MageKnight army based on the cuteness of her creatures (my armies kick butt too, unless everyone gangs up on me like sore losers).

Maybe it is the lack of snow and snow days. Maybe it is realizing I may be too boring to even write about. Maybe it is even a severe lack of chocolate in my blood. I just feel so out of it of late. Christmas presents sit unfinished aside from the ones I sent out. Cats sit unpetted next to me on the couch. My roommate periodically wanders out to talk to me and even staring at my colorful petpets in yesterday's entry only brings so much joy which is about nil at this moment.

And what a wonderful day to have my picture taken, too. Not that I normally enjoy the experience, just didn't do much for my glumness. Nor does the wonderful pressure of the holidays. I just don't feel much like Santa's little hobbit. Heck, I haven't even decked the halls with boughs of Christmas crafts. I haven't even dug them out. I haven't really considered it. I have made a few presents, but that's about it. Of course, since I sent some of them to friends of the family, my mother is now adamant that she wants her gift and a card ASAP. Apparently, seeing me for the holidays is not even a consideration. Always good to know.

Take one down, slam it on the ground, 98 Bottles of Annoyance on the wall. As you can imagine from the way this has started, I am back on my soap box. This puts me up there at average height, so people can actually see me and not imagine a disembodied voice. I am back on my marriage rant, mainly because people all around me are diving into the waters of betrothal and other people seem to think I should follow suit, but they have interesting theories on this. First, it appears to be a requirement that a woman can drive before she get married. So I was told. Apparently, that is what is wrong with me, and here I thought it was my abrasive personality. Who would have guessed?

The other thing that bothers me is people telling me who I am in love with. You would think I would know this without people telling me, but apparently that is not so. Of course, I also get told how I have to change any person who takes hold of my heart into an image of perfection so we can have the perfect Mormon marriage. I am not opposed to this (it's actually my preferred avenue of changing my last name--this means no marrying Dave Attel though his last name would be so perfect for me), but it disturbs me that I get told this on top of being told how wonderful it is that people who love each other are tying the knot whether it follow that prescribed plan on not. I understand there are extenuating circumstances for this behavior. I just don't get why people keep telling me how that is not an option for me should the man of my dreams find a brain, knees, a spine, a ring, and the words, "Will you marry me?" Not to mention finding me and a willingness to accept my fluffy children.

Just irks me. Add to that the twenty people who would help me get driving if I "got a permit" and ran screaming when I showed them the permit. Granted I don't photograph well, but the picture isn't that bad. Not that I want to be trying to drive around on the slushy, icy, icky roads right this second, but the roads have been clear up until now.

Now it begins to look a lot like the time of year when hobbits and elf children whip out presents and the big guy starts checking his list. I have calculated that I need to finish about two presents a day to finish all my gifts before Christmas, so be wary should you think calling me is an overly good idea. Still not feeling the Christmas spirit. Probably a throw back to people who demand that I must give them presents and cards and more presents, not to mention my time (which is limited) and probably even my soul too. I do hope no one feels pressured to buy me something. I am happy with cards, a simple Merry Christmas, and sometimes just having a person pressure me to give them something. If I give a gift of any sort, it is out of love not because I am obligated. Trying to make me feel obligated usually just suffocates the love into not wanting to give anything but a kick in the tail. Anyway, gonna go search for some Christmas spirit.

'Twas the night before Bedlam, all through the town
Not a creature was stirring, for fear it would drown;
The kool-aid kegs were hung by crackers with cheese,
And everyone feared to hear a mouse's sneeze;

The hedgehogs were dancing about on their heads,
And Miss Kewl and Bella were racing their sleds;
And cookies were cooling alone by the stove,
As people were wishing Bella knew how she drove,

When inside the hobbit hole, there arose such a din,
Bella was sure Ziggy was whipping the boys again.
So away to the kitchen with Miss Kewl by her side,
Bella went after what the demon kitties might hide.

But the daystar revealed by a linoleum glare
That there was positively nothing there
Off to the living room our heroines fled
Hoping to find that no one had lost their head.

What a surprise when they rounded the corner
To find someone more famous than Jack Horner,
Calling out orders to fellows of small stature
Who were making a mess of Bella's furniture,

"Now, FRODO, don't do that! SAM, please stand still!
Bella wants hobbits, and be good you will!
MERRY, get down!!! PIPPIN let that beast be!
You keep messing with him, he'll take off a knee!"

Like dandelion tufts in a sweet, summer sky,
White fluff was floating from Rodney to die,
As he glared daggers into the heart of a hobbit,
Swearing to himself he'd soon be a bobbit.

And then like a dance, executed so well
The party began as it now had a Belle
Bella danced in with Miss Kewl in tow
Four hobbits calmed down and stood in a row.

Presenting such presents more precious than gold
Because all Bella's hobbit love had been told
There stood Saint Nick all dressed to the nines
In one of the most bizarre of costume designs

For Saint Nick was bald, with only a trim of white hair
His bald little pate could blind with the glare
He smiled so wide, his eyes were about to pop out
And his fluffy white beard was an afro turned about

He was wielding a wand, with a snowflake on top,
And in his left hand a caffenated soda pop;
He had lost his red hat but not his broad tummy,
And was dressed like a cow ready to play rummy

Still jolly and bright, he had chocolate on hand
To add to the joy which for Bella he planned
He smiled and he guiggled as he presented his gift
Though Bella was still looking quite miffed

He didn't explain, he didn't even try
Just turned to Sam, gave the fellow the eye
So Sam stepped forward took Bella's arm
Frodo approached Miss Kewl and turned on the charm

Merry and Pippin were otherwise engaged
Trying to pry off Rodney who was quite enraged
As Saint Nick waved goodbye and turned to fly away
On butterfly wings for it was Bedlam Day

And all one could hear as he soared out of sight
Aside from some hobbits partying that night
Was Santa's clear voice accented with baas like a lamb,
"What a messed up way to start the Day of Bedlam!!!"

Well, that's awful long. More tomorrow.

Scrooge, like Cupid, has got some arrows to shoot into the hearts of men. He has hit me squarely and I am not feeling the love right now. Not Yuletide love anyway, but there is always hobbit love. I can never be short of that or too short for that. Yes, I saw the movie yesterday. Nothing like cramming into a theater with hundreds of other people who just can't wait to see sexy hobbits hit the big screen.

I give it two hairy hobbit feet up. You can't top that for a hobbit review. Of course, some teenie boppers expressed concern that they didn't add an extra two hours to appropriately address all the random love affairs from the books. Maybe they should send fan letters to Peter Jackson and convince him to make another movie LoTR: Untold Love. I am sure the boys would all be clamoring to see that one. Hours of Faramir bonding with Eowyn would just make us all better people. If you don't know what I am talking about, give up and go read the books, okay?

The departmental Christmas party was today. I managed to pull together my cheerful personality and have a good time. The little penguin definitely helped. I just have to find the perfect name for the little fellow. If only my penguins were as easy to name as my hedgehogs. Some families just aren't as consistent. I laughed. I giggled. I listened to carolers. I even ate more food than any one hobbit should eat (well, in one sitting, so I skipped tea.) I played with paper, plotting the reshaping of the world in which we live.

But here I am again feeling that weight like Death standing at my shoulder taunting me with the lulling promise of dark slumber while my soul cries out for life. Why I persist in this imagined place where things can become better and I am not being eternally stabbed by a million tiny daggers is beyond me. Everyone wants so much of me. They don't even see themselves asking me to be everything and nothing all at once, but that is the way we are. We are greedy, we are demanding. Sometimes we give and then we do not know how to say, "There is nothing more now. Go away. Leave me here. Let me lie crumpled upon the floor until life is renewed in me. Let me rest. Let me alone. Quit assuming that this is what I need or desire. I am not one single type of person. I am mutable. I am so much more than you could ever hope to understand, so stop assuming that you know me. Just love me because I am not because you think you know more of me than I know of myself."

And if I said it, would they understand? Would they release me from the chains that bind me? Would they step back, knowing that sometimes my smile is only a facade for fear of hurting them? Would they care? Would they call me mad? Would they just glance past this and look again for the joke? It doesn't matter and deep down, at the core, I fear neither do I. I will be washed away and a new sun shall come to bring forth light in the darkness. They will forget me as many have forgotten their promises to me. And thus it ends--this entry. Perhaps tomorrow shall bring again the light if only the pain can be cast away.

The world languishes in its own conceit. Amazing to find how many experts there are on me. There numbers increase every day and yet none of them has caught on to what is blatantly obvious. What is that? *shakes her head* No, I can't tell you that. Just be wary for my nerves are brittle and my patience is running thin.

I only have three presents to go to round out my hobbiting this holiday season. Of course, this means I can now devote more time to the projects I set aside to play Santa's hobbit. These projects are numerous and none of your business, so keep in mind that my vacation is my vacation, so control your urges to dominate my time. I shall be working industriously and will probably not be happy if you interrupt me. (Just pretend I am at work and unreachable.) That's my kind warning. And as nothing interesting has happened recently, I am off. Sweet dreams.

The world coated itself in a downy comforter of white snow. Scientists were out in search of two identical snowflakes to prove old constants to be untrue. Small children were writing long letters to an old man in a red suit and waiting in lines to see a disgruntled old man dressed as the jolly fellow. Parents were hassled and stores had been selling holly and pine accents since Halloween. Now was the night. Now was the night when Santa would rein up his reindeer and spread joy over the land.

The North Pole was bustling with elves and hobbits wrapping last minute gifts, putting last stitches into teddies and bears, making sure the paint was dry, and checking off those final names from the nice list. One little hobbit had already wrapped the last brightly colored bow around the final lump of coal before attaching the naughty list to the outside of the magical velvet bag from which they would appear when needed. A few pink ponies who had erroneously been created offered what assistance they could by packing down the snow of the runway and kneading purple bread dough for the celebration dinner that would follow Santa's return.

Just over the horizon, however, some evil lingered. All the ancient spirits of dissent that had plagued the holiday had finally banded together. They had converged upon the North Pole en masse to take out the big guy. The Grinch's evil personality had come all the way from Who-ville to conspire with Ebenezer Scrooge's bad side and some irate former child elf stars of Santa's workshop. Now, they were marching on Santa with the hope of destroying him.

They passed by the pink ponies who were having such fun kneading their dough that evil went unnoticed. They sneak through the shadows past the workshop and made their way to the stable where Santa was making his last check on the reindeer. Skulking in the shadows, the spirits of evil awaited his exit to make his exit more permanent.

Luckily, a plethora of penguins was vacationing at the North Pole that holiday season. As any Linux user can tell you, penguins are well-known as bearers of good and joy. These penguins had noticed the disturbance in the chi and cheer and flocked to the source of this disturbance. Seeing the spirits of evil in the shadows right outside the door where Christmas joy was most concentrated. This did not speak of joy for the world.

The smallest penguin, Perry, pulled his blue knit hat further down on his head, adjusted his scarf and stalked across the snowy expanse toward the door. The others followed suit, not wanting to be outdone by the smallest of their number. So entranced by the thrill of conspiracy, the spirits of evil did not feel the presence of pure good coming toward them. Nor did they take notice of the whoosh as plenty of peeved penguins plopped to their bellies and sent themselves sliding straight at the door of the stable.

Like bowling for last-minute shoppers on Christmas Eve, the penguins could not miss. The evil was decimated by the slide of Santa salvation. Penguin petrification filled the evil spirits and they all fled the scene of the would-be crime just seconds before Santa came dashing out to see what had created such a ruckus. He opened the door to excited penguins, brushing off snow and preparing to meet the big guy.

Of course, their celebrations were cut short before Santa even knew what fate had almost been his. Soon he was sailing across the sky in sleigh full of presents, while plenty of penguins joined some pink ponies in making purple pain* for the after delivery party.

* pain is the French word for bread in case you missed that!!!

Okay, consider that your Christmas goose and don't talk to me, btw. I am Scrooge and I am horrible and I am sure there will be no visitations from three spirits to cure me of this ailment this Christmas Eve. Off to see the blizzard, the wonderful blizzard of loathing. Thank you. thank you for reminding me that I am nothing and all other needs should come before any of my own.

Well, it is the day after Christmas. The day after Christmas is famous for many reasons from the important fact that it is Miss Kewl's birthday to the less important fact that everyone's pets are all worn out from chewing new toys and batting balls of wrapping paper around the floor. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Miss Kewl. For those wanting to give her gifts and best wishes, I can pass them on to her. She wuvs e-mail and cards and dancing with Chester Cheetah (okay, I made that last one up).

Well, I got intriguing items from cards to penguins to paper to a vehicle this year. It's like Christmas in December. Oh wait, that's what yesterday was. Today was spent in relative laziness. I got up late and kind of cleaned my kitchen. I updated a couple of things on my website including this lovely journal entry and now I am off to attempt the cleaning of more areas of the house before working out a schedule for next week that should keep me busy from the time I wake up until about 5pm. And, no, I will not be appreciative of other people trying to allocate my time without asking me well in advance. Thanks for reading. Maybe I'll do something amusing and post more later.

My muse, come quickly, wrap your arms around me
Let your love shine forth to astound me
Unbind me from this lowly vision of me
That leaves me clinging to something which can't be
My muse, break these bonds, set my heart to flight
Give me musings to fill my wordless night
Give my mind the words to tell the moon
Of dreams and wars and passions faded too soon
To be reckoned in God's time, not in our own
Where we have but a moment to decide or come undone
And feel the world come crashing to the ground
Because when asked, our answer made no sound

I look back and see so much that I can not explain. Bella, this complex creature, can not be explained in any words yet fools say they know her. Fools profess a greater knowledge than she herself possesses. Such fools fled before her tears. Such fools know naught of many lost years. Such fools who tell her how to heal her soul when their souls still bleed and soak the ground with putrescence from old wounds that never had time to heal.

I tire of being advised by those who don't heed their own advice. I tire of being told how my heart should feel. I am told I should not care. I am told it should not matter. I am told so much, yet still I dare to care about my friends, family, enemies, pets, everything and anything. I am not sure if I can hate. I just ache so much sometimes that I must push people away and they always come back. Even those who claim no love for me come circling back when their own pain is too much and no one else offers a shoulder to cry on. And here I stand waiting to take them in and comfort them.

My circle comes around again and I must choose my path. I can not choose. Why? Is it that I fear I will be wrong again in my choice? No, I do not fear the choice itself. Nor do I fear its consequences for me. Obviously, that has never stopped me before. I fear, however, the crumbling of denial that I see around me and watching people I care about falling should my decision somehow bring me away from where I now stand, right here where they can lean on me. Think of this what you will, but I do not think any of you will understand this at all. Why? Because I wrote it for me not you and it speaks to my blood, which none of you has unless you got a transfusion last year sometime and have the right blood type.

"Bella, you're not funny. You're cruel." Yes, darlings, sometimes I am cruel because I tire of hearing how well you know me when it's quite clear that no one can understand anyone else that deeply. On to the laughter. I do owe someone a bit of holiday humor. Since I still scan past Christmas commercials and Christmas programming, I do hope you'll forgive me for another foray into Christmas. Let's go jingle jangle into that world shall we?

MORE ABOUT SANTA

Get out your halos for Santa is on his way
He's loaded a million presents on a tiny sleigh
He'll soon be swooshing down from the Pole
The happy smiles of children being his goal

Poor old Santa has been working all year
Pondering and listening to all he can hear
Of naughty and nice and children's desires
And how Mrs. Claus has been stoking the fires

The elves have gone out and bought some wax
Waiting for the moment to send Santa a fax
And while he is reading it, polish his head
For Santa has gone quite bald, it is said

Mrs. Claus can't stand it, it clashes with his beard
She can't stand the cold and it is feared
She'll leave for Jamaica never to return
Leaving Santa Clause to file his tax return

So if you see Santa and snatch off his hat
And see a shiny bald head underneath that
Beware of the gleaming ring he may leave
Because it may be a proposition you receive

Okay, not my best work, but I see no reason for complaint. After all, I have not been paid to amuse you. Though if you want to offer me pocket change, I might just throw a little something on here just for you. Some of us do have bills to pay, you know:) Off to seek inspiration.

I thought I had forgot you, this demon called love
Left you behind, raised myself far above
But in my heart still, an echo haunts me
And I wish it would scream what it whispers to me

I thought I had forgotten the feeling of the thaw
The way the tiniest hope can my chains slowly gnaw
Until they break and my heart bleeds with the fire
Of some unknown passion, some unattainable desire

In visions I see you, the sun sinking below
And it seems your figure, your name I know
But I can not place them, only shoulders' strength
Strong enough to fight for me, go to any length

I thought I forgot what it was like to wish on a star
To call out and hope you hear me no matter how far
My heart's feeble cry must call out to draw you here
But the lack of an answer is my great fear

Ghost of a love which I do not recognize
Will you come from the shadows look into my eyes
Speak more volumes in a gaze than in any word
And take my hand and my heart because I heard

Too much time alone with the cats and the television can be bad for your health. So much to do and so little motivation. I don't know why the holidays make me feel like this. Maybe it's all the turkey. Turkey does make you sleepy, so perhaps I can blame it. I could eat something else, but then who would eat the turkey? No, not the cats. They're spoiled enough. Really.

Woah, I just turned on the television, Guess what is on? That's right: a commercial for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Ah, the small things that make me giddy. That's right up there with too much chocolate. I almost feel some humor coming on. *smiles broadly and does a little dance*

This has the potential to be the last entry of 2003. I am ready. I have my flashlight and my gun ready in case of the attack of the Y2K3 bug. I am ready to bring on another wonderful year that finds me one step closer to my goal of crazy cat lady. Not that one has to be old to be one of those mind you. One just has to have cats and only cats to fill their days. Intriguing, that is exactly how I have spent my vacation aside from some obligatory visits.

Ah, it amazes me the obligations I have. I must be funny and witty. If my body was crushed under a semi and I had moments to live, I am sure someone would expect me to cheer them up before I passed on. After all, I am the one who is always there for everyone else, but should I want moments alone or to answer for myself, I should not even try. If I get nasty, there is no forgiveness for me even if I had made it clear I was in no mood to cheer or brighten. That is my year. That has been my life. That will probably be my life, but who really gives a flying fruit tree? Entertain you. Yes, that is it. Pretend to be happy, so I must find my moments of mirth and forget that ever I ached, yearned, bled, or maybe even died while those who "love" me watched and didn't even notice because they can't see beyond themselves.

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. My Shelby is coming home. She's even bringing her husband and her charming daughter. This of course makes me smile. I do love my Shelby. She is gifted with the same capacity to love that brings me down so often. Her father was even nice enough to give me the latest and greatest information that they should be arriving sometime today. So they will be here for the New Year, but they will probably be snuggled up all tight in their beds getting some much-needed rest after days on the road.

My mother also seems to be doing a little better. She may even get to keep her foot. This is excellent news. Keep praying for her though. A little extra help and love never hurts after all. My work mommy had surgery, too, so remember her as well while you're on your knees. So far the prognosis seems to be good from what I am told.

Well, before I get back into a rant, I'm going to explore putting words into other documents on my darling girlfriend (my computer). After all, I can't give them all to this journal. Have a happy New Year, and if you feel you must drink, do it responsibly. I'm sticking to cranberry juice, sprite, and milk. Wooowho.