So this is Christmas...

Despite what many Christians would smugly point out in that annoyingly condescending tone they are particularly fond of employing, Christmas is not about the birth of Christ. Those guys don’t even know exactly when that dude is born, the best they could come up with is that the date is nine months from when he was supposed to be conceived, which I find to be arbitrary and very creepy.

So I went for Christmas mass today and for those who have never been, it can be described as a massive gathering of people to share in communal goodwill with storytelling and lots of karaoke, so it’s a kind of a Christian seventh month then. Actually that makes it sound more fun than it really is. Like most Christmas themed entertainment it is nauseatingly maudlin and just dull really.

It strikes me as a really tenuous cause for celebration though, the birth of the illegitimate spawn of the invisible man and a woman who claims to have never had sex.

And it is amusing how all that goodwill gets left behind in the church just as the mass is over and everybody tries to drive out of a packed carpark while forcing themselves not to use the horn because it’s Christmas.

No, I’m not even talking about that old tired dictum about how Christmas has become commercialized.
Sex has long been commercialized, in fact it is widely accepted that prostitution is the oldest profession, but it doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.

So what is it about then? Sharing, caring and all that good stuff? Friends and family? Whatever, I see them enough the rest of the year.

No, Christmas is a holiday. It is a holiday where people exchange gifts but not only that, it just so happens that I am of an age when it is acceptable for me not to give anything while at the same time expect to be given lots of shiny new things.

It is also the time for feasting, a time of smoked salmon, smoked hams, on occasions sushi and whatever else anyone feels like bringing. Here as with the gifts, I am at a fortunate situation where to all these feasting there isn’t attached any worry about whether my finances can afford these for years to come or expend any concern with regards to my waistline or health.

So, Christmas is good to me and I am going to enjoy it guilt-free for as long as my selfish adolescent mind will let me. To anyone who thinks this to be inconsiderate and contrary to what Christmas is all about, all I have to say is, you are living life all wrong, my loves.

Thanks for reading and have a Merry Merry Christmas while you still can, Jesus would have wanted it this way.

Better late than never

Do not worry, my throngs of hot, intellectual teenage girl readers, I am not dead. Although I am not entirely certain that it would not be a more accommodating alternative.

I say readers but I sometimes wonder if anyone actually consistently reads my posts, I know people are visiting my blog, that little counter on the side tells me that by increasing in agonizingly slow rates every time I go check on it, which I try to limit to once a day because that’s all the bruising my ego can take.

I get so pathetically excited every time there is a little spike in page visits, one might make the mistake of assuming I was looking at my stock portfolio.
The thing is, once you sieve out the anomalous jumps in traffic, as any judicious statistician should, we are left with overwhelming evidence that my readership could very well consist of just one person.

Now, whether that one person is a hot, intellectual teenage girl, there is no way of telling from the statistics but if you are and you are reading this now, I would just like to say I enjoy stimulating intellectual conversations, one would likely find bands like Grizzly Bear and Animal Collective playing on my portable music playing device at the moment and I like movies like Here and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I am sure you will find a way to contact me if you are interested to go have a coffee together sometime or catch a movie or something, my resourceful little pet.

Ahem.

Well, the other alternative, which I do not find as appealing, is that I am somehow sleep-reading my blog, probably as a defense mechanism of my sub-conscious to protect my delicate ego. Naturally, the somnolent visits to my blog would be kept to a minimum, one would not want to inflate the ego, just as it is obvious that an inflated balloon is easier to burst.

The numbers are so incidental, that they can almost be entirely attributed to people who were looking for the meaning of the word ‘mellifluous’.
Meanwhile obtuse teenage girls whose blogs consists of whiny posts about how their friends didn’t notice that they had their hair trimmed, get more traffic than this blog just because they have pictures taken of themselves from a high angle with a slightly confused or constipated expression or because they have more than one friend.

I also suspect that a substantial amount of traffic is made up of boys who, thoroughly misguided by some bizarre logic, believe that reading the girl’s blog would increase their chances of being allowed to put their pork sausages into the girl’s meat canoe.
Euphemisms!

I suppose I can tell you why I haven’t been posting as regularly as I wish I could.
My stack of schoolwork have seemed to gain aspirations of beating Everest, and through some strange and arbitrary reason I feel obligated to actually defeat their purpose by completing them because I am in my final semester. This is not helped by their deadlines overlapping the common tests and the holidays.
In fact, I really should be doing work right now.

Also the seasonal flu as it is wont, has befallen the host at the most inconvenient time. Just as I passed the phase of coughing up phlegm into basins, my throat is now wanting of lubrication, it feels as if it was scrubbed with steel wool. It is not the most favourable physical state to be in for studying when you are keenly aware of every dust particle that you breathe in.

On a separate note.
God, I hate whiny blog posts, don’t you?