Christmas playin with plastic tauntauns...

Don't I wish. The best I ever did as a kid was play with my millennium Falcon Christmas morning, while my Uncle (Mike, I think) played his Star Wars laserdisc. For you younguns out there, think of an LP sized DVD. The year was 1980, And I also remember it because that was the year my Grandpa (Mom's side) and Uncle (Dad's side) got me the same lego star destroyer that I wanted... It was a lego Christmas after all. In my mind, it was the most memorable Christmas ever.

Until this one.

2004, as many of you know, has not been a great year to be Rob. Christmas day found me alone, depressed, with plans to gorge myself on a 22 lb. Turkey. But as I sat down to eat, the strangest thing happened... I heard children laughing outside... And playing! Now, I know my neighbors have kids, but they never play outside... EVER! So, like the poem says, "out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I ran to the door to see what was the matter" Or something like that... I'm sure you get the idea... Anyway, it was snowing!

In New Orleans!

On Christmas day!

I couldn't believe my eyes! My Neighbor, Keylee, couldn't believe my hair (I hadn't combed it yet that day) It was Snowing! All at once, I felt like a child again... The spirit of the season coursed through my veins like I had been freebasing Christmas cheer or something. I went for a walk among the big, fluffy flakes, amused by all my neighbors, outside with their families, enjoying the first snow in new Orleans in over ten years. As many neighbors gawked, called loved ones to share this miraculous sight, and threw poorly fashioned snowballs at one another, All of the crap I've been through this year suddenly seemed meaningless.

It was Christmas, it was snowing in my adopted hometown, and I was the happiest guy in the world. Carefree stroller through A white Christmas in New Orleans. Proud recipient of an honest-to-goodness Christmas miracle.

Bing Crosby, eat your heart out.

Okay... Time to do something Profoundly stupid.

Sometimes dear readers, when life kicks ya in the nuts, you just have to say what the hell. I was sitting at home on Tuesday without much to do, when I decided to call Donald to see if he wanted to hang out. He did, but we were stuck for something to do. He suggested bowling. I Don't enjoy bowling much (once, I bowled an 8!) so I said lets drive to Jackson instead to visit Stacey and Drew. So we did. Throwing common sense, responsibility, and a touch of sanity to the wind, we took off for casa Sphieler not knowing for sure if they would even be home.

so, after the three hour drive, we sat in Stacy's driveway and called he to see if she minded having company. Surprised the crap out of her... It was great. Then we went out for barbecue, and had cracker barrel for breakfast the next day before heading home.

I feel so much better now.

One thing that this has shown me is that as much as I hate to admit it, my brother may be right. I do need a prolonged vacation. Soon. The stupider the better. Something to prove to myself that I am still in charge of my own life.

Okay... Enough already!

I'm lookin at you, God. You think I don't see you there hiding and giggling behind the sofa, but I do. I have really had enough of your messing around with my life for your amusement, you hear me? Capital E- nuff! I don't care for your freaking tests... I feel that if I have done something so wrong to deserve all this, there is no way that I have not atoned for it at this point. SO KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY! AND STOP F#@&ING GIGGLING AT MY MISERY! TAIN'T FUNNY!

Well the rest of you out there are probably wondering why I sound a touch upset. Long story short: Charity is in the hospital again, And of course she and I both blame me for it. I know... Not my fault... I was just looking out for me, right? Well, my selfishness landed her in the hospital... AGAIN! I found this out primarily because the hospital that she was being admitted to called me at work to get her insurance info, otherwise, I would still probably be boppin along in blissful ignorance.

I know that on some level that if Char can't be responsible for her mental health, then there is no way I possibly can be expected to be... But still, it bothers me that I seem to be the only one who genuinely cares what happens to her. So, if I don't step up to the plate with her illness, NO ONE WILL.

Now, the question is, does that automatically mean I have to? Does my obligation to Charity not only as her husband, but as a caring human being, a good Christian, and possibly her only true friend, mean that I put her needs ahead of my own happiness?

I am very confused... So I turn to the great male role models of our culture. Jesus would just wave a hand and heal her. Superman would try to help her, no matter the cost. Indy would kick some Nazi ass until he found an artifact which would solve the situation. Curly would wack her in the head with a two-by-four by accident. Nyuck, Nyuck, Nyuck.

Of course, the three stooges probably aren't the best role models in this situation, are they?

Oh, Brother.

Well, something interesting happened last night... I heard from my semi-estranged brother. I will admit, It kinda suprises me that I heard from him, but then again, I figure Mom probably had something to do with it.

I can hear that phone call now... "Ya know, your brother is having a really rough time down there, and it would be nice if you called him. LIKE, NOW!"

Ahhh, a mother's gentle persuasion. How do I know this? because every time something unusual happens in Jay's life, I get a similar phone call, and then I spend a half hour justifying to Mom why I haven't called sooner. Sheesh.

Anyway, I gotta give props to Jay; he did call. Of course, he then spent at least a half hour trying to persuade me that I absolutely need to leave town for a few days, despite me telling him that that wasn't gonna happen due to my life's circumstances.
Again, Sheesh.

Maybe it's the whole debate/forensics thing in him, but sometimes he just doesn't know when to let well enough alone. Proving yourself right should be secondary to making someone feel better, ya know? It amazes me sometimes how different we really are. I wonder if it amazes him, too.

Wading in the stream of conciousness

Well, I feel like writing today, and since my current screenplay is going nowhere, I figure a blog entry will help me get it out of my system. Problem is, that it's tough to write about something when you have nothing interesting in mind.

Robert Silverberg once wrote "Every day I get out of bed and step on a landmine. That landmine is me. I explode forth with ideas, dialogue, and exposition until I contain the whole mess on a piece of paper" Or at least he said something remarkably similar to that. As I get older I find my once photographic memory doesn't quite get the details right like it used to.

Anyway, I envy the man. It must be nice to know that whatever spouts forth from your brain is worthy of putting into words. Although, when I get up, I feel like I'm about to explode too... primarily because I usually have to pee.

Robert Silverberg I'm not.

So, writers block sets in as sure as the sun rises in the east, and I sit here typing out horrid cliches like that last one. Well, maybe not horrid, but certainly tired.

Anyhow, My life is still... Upsetting. But, I do think it's getting better. Sure this whole "impending Divorce" thing is hanging over my head and weighing me down to the point where I feel like just my hair weighs about thirty pounds... but all things considered, I'm actually doing pretty well. No heart attacks so far... and my finances are lower than I would prefer, but all in all I'm okay.

First time in weeks I've been able to say that.

Christmas is coming!

(cue little Japanese men running and screaming in terror)

Well, just like Godzilla, Here comes Christmas. The birth of Jesus celebrated, pre-packaged, used to sell everything from apple pie to razors, and wrapped up with a bow and a note that says "11th commandment- thou shalt not humbug".

Random thought- If it's Jesus's birthday, how come we get no cake and ice cream?

Well, I for one refuse to put up decorations this year. It's just me, and I see no point. I also refuse to be frickin jolly. I will not wear my santa hat, and I will not wrap any gifts for myself to put under the tree, which I am not putting up.

I will not suffer fools gladly this season, either. So, DON'T tell me "but, Rob... it's Christmas!" I really don't want to hear it. If I choose to celebrate the birth of the christian savor by cursing loudly at my chimney after downing several quarts of heavily spiked egg nog, that's my business. If my road to inner freakin peace has no exits labeled "Christmas cheer" that's also my business.

I'm sorry... I sound really hostile.

And that's not what the holidays are about. But, by the same token, they aren't about Santa, gifts, malls, presents, decorations, or even that sweetest of all mistressess, Egg Nog.

It's all about peace on earth, and goodwill toward your homies and honeys.

For shizzle, my frizzle. I've been watching MTV. Does it show?

So anyway, for the holidays this year, try not to get down on those who have no spirit, give em a hug instead. They, like me, probably need one.