all is calm, all is bright

Well, I made it. Christmas has officially been survived by me. Adam and I shared one of the most special christmas eves ever. I had been all back-and-forth on what I wanted to do for the holiday, because holidays have been difficult for me over the past couple years. We finally decided to spend christmas eve and christmas morning together and then head to our respective families on christmas afternoon.

I was wanting to make things feel a little more traditional, so we searched online and found a nice, traditional-seeming church to attend a candlelight christmas eve service. We drove out into the country to find the church, parked, walked in the door and were welcomed and handed candles. But as we entered the sanctuary, the large overhead screen displaying an animated “welcome” message and the loud, upbeat piano/brass ensemble were the complete opposite of what I had been hoping for. This did not feel peaceful or moving or traditional. I sat there for about ten minutes, trying to decide if this could fulfill my need for a quiet, simple christmas activity. I decided it could not, and Adam, who was being nothing but supportive, got up with me and we left, taking with us the candles they'd handed us at the door. That's right. We stole candles from a church on christmas eve, and skipped the church service.

Once we were in the car, we lit the candles and laughed about the whole scenario. Another car even honked at us as we waved the candles while driving down the road. Before going home, we stopped at a gas station convenience store and bought ice cream to enjoy with the bottle of champagne that was waiting for us.

The night did, in the end, turn out to be wonderfully simple, not to mention spontaneous and fun.

I made it through the next day's family festivities largely unscathed. And then Adam and I got to go skiing with my sister and my dad and his girlfriend. It was only the second time I'd gone skiing, and it was a blast.

Now, I sit here, winding down after all the gatherings and all the visiting. I can't say we formed any lasting or meaningful christmas traditions (at least I hope not to make a tradition out of stealing from churches), but I made it through with plenty of good memories. That's good enough for me. Hope your holidays gave you good memories too, and maybe even some cheer.

simplify

I need to simplify my thoughts about the holidays. When I was a kid, I remember almost driving my parents crazy in December, as I tried to instigate various traditions to create some feeling of stability and consistency. My parents were always anything but stable, my life anything but routine. This volatility was something I adapted to rather readily, such that I grew to practically abhor routine.

However, there was something about the christmas season that always felt different. Like an annual anchor. Something about this time of year prompted me to insist that things be somewhat predictable. If one year the star was the last thing we put on the tree, the next year it became very important to not only put the star on very last, but to make a big ceremony of it. If one year we made christmas cookies, I would insist the next year that we not forget to have our “christmas cookie day” as if it had been a long standing tradition. If one year in the car I saw lots of christmas lights at night, I would remind my parents the next year that we need to go on our yearly christmas light drive. Since I didn't have siblings as a kid (my sister wasn't born until I was 12), it was mostly up to me to get excited about and carry on these traditions, although my dad helped.

Life is completely different now than it was then. My parents are divorced, I live in a different city, I have a sister who never shared in most of those traditions (she's practically a different generation), I don't have a particular house or living room in which I want to spend christmas morning watching people open their gifts that I couldn't buy them because I'm a college student with zero income. I've let go of all these attachments to all these traditions, yet I still keep hoping for the familiarity of them to magically creep up. I keep wanting that feeling of stability and consistency, and as a result, I'm putting a great deal of unwarranted expectations on the holiday season.

Maybe there's a way for me to just slow down and enjoy the little nuances that make this year unique and special. Maybe somehow I can look forward to a christmas and a new year that will be different from any other. Maybe I can just take it one day at a time, without big holiday expectations, without need for attachment to the past or assurance of stability of the future, but just enjoy the moment. Maybe I can take pleasure in simple, passing beauties, rather than needing to latch on to them the way I used to.

Ironically, this post about simplifying is one of my longest posts ever.

things that are making me happy these days

my leather journal

long conversations about religion, philosophy, relationships, etc...

super cool roommate

choir concert this past weekend (Go Team Alto!)

going out for mexican food after said choir concert with fun people

super cool boyfriend who brought me a beautiful flower at said choir concert

hot showers on cold nights

scarves (the only thing I look forward to about winter besides the first week of snow)

ray lamontagne

queen sized bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!

piano lessons

crying in the arms of somebody who understands

personal freedom

making a christmas list

seeing little kids in heavy coats that make their arms stick straight out at their sides

spanakopita

having my morning coffee and croissant in the atrium every morning

finally getting my lowest grade on a music theory test: B-

feeling absolutely surrounded by awesome people, every day.

the dog's fish

This is the fish. It has no name. It isn't that we don't love the fish, we don't name it for its own good. We've found, through trial and error, that when you name a fish, it quickly dies.

It's the dog's fish. We felt that Lucy needed some company during the day, so we got her a fish. Granted, she can't see into the fish bowl unless she's up on the bed, which she isn't allowed to be on at all really. In fact, Adam just got a new queen sized mattress which is considerably taller than the bed he had before, and Summer was downstairs earlier this week after the mattress had arrived, and said she heard a loud thud on the floor, which she believed to be Lucy trying to jump up on the bed but finding the bed higher than it used to be, so she didn't make it. I suspect she was trying to get up there to have a nice chat with her fish, you know, face to face. But even just the presence of another living thing in the room has got to do something for her.

The fish likes jazz. And fish food. And faces. When I look at the fish, it swims right up to the side of the bowl I'm looking in on, and swims past my eyes very slowly, looking right at me. It's a very intense fish.