Coffee Rhetoric: Christmas
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

December 22, 2012

These and Those: Holiday Update

It has been a spell since I've logged a proper blog post. I know, I know. I was (and am still) hoping to make some vanity changes to the blog, to ring in this New Year, once I figure out the logistics. I've also been on somewhat of a mini-break from blogging.

(Very valid) excuses: I was sans a laptop for a minute because my old, crotchety one finally sputtered and died on me. It had literally been hanging on by a proverbial thread... wires would be a more apt description. Duct taping the screen to its keyboard simply wasn't passing muster anymore. It was a slow moving, perpetually freezing, memory waning piece of junk. I cringed at having to take it out in public to work on. Needless to say, in its final act of defiance it declared, "F*ck yo' couch!" and went bye-bye for good. It took some maneuvering to transfer my work off of it, but my (very necessary and relevant) files were saved and re-loaded onto the newer laptop... thank goodness. 
I've also been trying to work through a massive writer's block. A lot is going on in the world, most recently the tragedy that took place in Newtown, CT. Honestly, there are no words I could have written to sum up my thoughts on the tragedy, so I've opted not to publicly share them via social media. I will say that local (Connecticut) media, for the most part, has been respectful and protective of the victims' loved ones, and I think that it's definitely warranted and needed, to enable them to grieve and make sense of it in peace... especially since it's so close to the holidays.

That people have been making it a habit of using these sorts of tragedies to spew vitriol, make racist comments, peddle religious and political propaganda, or make it about themselves, on social media and other public platforms, is vile. Awareness, recognition of others' humanity, and courtesy seem to be disintegrating and I'm not here for devolution and ignoramus behavior... at all. I don't write things or engage others in discourse with an expectation that they need to agree with me; but people will rant (often on my social media platforms) about "Free Speech!" and say something particularly inflammatory, unfounded, and trollish, then scoff at others for being "too politically-correct" when they're called out because they think that will somehow insulate them from being critiqued, challenged, or from accountability when they spew nonsense. Not here for it. I'm old and have officially run out of patience for people who display off-the-chart levels of ignorance and who have a propensity for public stunts-and-shows or histrionics.

In short, my thoughts are running cyclical like a Mobius strip and filtering them into a cohesive blog post has proved to be a bit challenging. I'm also working on a few other writing projects (while drinking copious amounts of coffee of course) that have been usurping some of that creative-thought energy, psyching myself up so I can work towards meeting some personal goals, and have been surely and vehemently trying to steer the conversation away from that topic that shall not be mentioned again, since that is not the crux of what Coffee Rhetoric is about (but has suddenly become synonymous with). 

I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled blogging program after the holidays, and am looking forward to spilling open once again. 

In the meantime, here's wishing a safe, productive, fun, and reflective holiday this season to you and yours. 

December 11, 2006

Nightmare Before Christmas...

This past Saturday, I was allowed to leave work about 20 minutes early. With extra time to spare, I decided to walk the 10 – 12 minutes to Farmington Avenue, to catch an E bus, as opposed to waiting 20 minutes, where I usually catch the bus at 5pm. Once again, the late afternoon was prematurely dark, so I walked at a clip. As I made my way down the street- coat swinging around my ankles, the heels of my boots the only sound to be heard- I noted that many of the homes on this side of town, were decked out resplendently with Christmas lights and other holiday bric-a-brac, cluttering the front yards, blinking almost defiantly against the darkness. It seemed the further I got down the street, the gaudier the Christmas cheer, so I sped up my pace, and pulled my coat closer to me, frightened by what I was bearing witness to. Lights… projectile vomited onto bushes and fronts of homes, sans any theme… just cluttered lights and garish holiday décor, thrown together without any real meticulous effort. When I reached the final house on the street, the last in this parade d'inélégant, I stumbled and then paused at the worst of the fray! … Colorful lights, strewn on a bush, and blinking maniacally at me… the cords entangled and gnarled around one another! At that moment, standing in front of this display, I heard a whirring sound. Suddenly, my eyes made contact with the fugliest piece of Christmas art I ever saw; A huge, globe shaped ball… with a moving snowman vignette inside… turning around and around… mechanical-like… stuck performing the same dance in the midst of fake snow, whirling around on the inside. I clapped my leather-gloved hand over my mouth, gagging! It was all I could do to not double over and vomit. I walked away from this bloody nightmare, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk.


Finally settled at the bus stop, I took a deep inhalation of breath as I tried to settle my nerves and fight back the nausea working its way up my throat. Once the bus rumbled down the street and I boarded, an offensive odor assaulted my senses. My brush with the terror of Christmas decorating DON’TS, didn’t seem so scary anymore, as the foul B.O. - (like a greasy, onion laden burger, smothered in special sauce and a heaping helping of mustiness). I narrowed suspects down to three passengers sitting towards the front of the bus… A bad P.M. Dawn look-alike, the old man with the soiled looking clothes on, the old woman wearing the dirty coat… The old man and the old woman departed the bus, yet the smell still lingered… I decided it was P.M. Dawn’s bad doppelganger. His smell, set adrift of memory-not-so-blissful… of my olfactory glands.

I decided to take a detour and stop at the wine shop for some Jesus Juice, to cleanse my soul…