South Dakota...?!

So, come Christmas morn while the rest of you lucky bastards are bleary-eyed and ripping into your presents, I'll be hitting the friendly skies bound for the exotic land of.. South Dakota?

Hmm, I thought. Okay. Hopefully there'll be a bar open or something. Until now, my knowledge of South Dakota amounts to: I think Mount Rushmore is there. Or is that North Dakota? And where is Fargo?

But this afternoon I got my hotel info and decided to internet stalk where I'm staying. I like to do that when I'm going somewhere new and need to know if they have free wireless access. Anyway, it's the Alex Johnson hotel in Rapid City. (This is so a security violation. Please don't come kill me.)

And I was pleasantly surprised! The hotel itself as well as the area, historic downtown Rapid City, promises loads of intrigue and nerdy activities that sound like my cup of tea. The hotel itself is 77 years old and decorated with buffalo hides arrowheads as well other such authentic Indian stuff. There's a circa 1880 train that does 2 hour tours through the Black Hills. Mount Rushmore is only about 30 miles away, and there's also a memorial to Crazy Horse somewhere around there. And the Badlands (which from pictures look pretty badass are about an hour away.

Hey? I'm excited. Not to mention, after my stay in Rapid City, I'll be heading to Honolulu, bitches!

Oh, and Merry Christmas :)

Hints for next year's holiday revelries:

1. Stumbling home at 8:30 in the morning from a Christmas party looking like a beat-up whore is generally not desirable, but is allowed at least once per season (check!)
2. Mistletoe can be loads of debauched fun. It is negligible whether or not it should be used as a device to make out with people you've secretly been lusting after (yup..check!)
3. If you've already bought a present for someone, and someone else tells you it's not the right color, size, shape, etc. and you've already thrown away the tag (and wrapped it!), it's permissible to ignore the new (belated) information.
4. There is no need to go to the mall during the month of December. None. It is a vile testament to the baseness of humanity.
5. Passion plays/musicals shall be limited to one per season.
6. It is still not okay to eat a pound of M&M's in one sitting, be they dyed festive Christmas colors or not.
7. May be advisable in the future to keep more liquor or wine around the house (not calorie-soaked beer! no!) for possible bouts of SAD.

Mission: Accomplished?

OMG. I am literally stunned by my Christmas shopping success. Okay, I just remembered like three people I should probably get a little something for, but even so, I am doing really, really well. And we won't mention that I just bought myself another coat.. But I needed one that was versatile enough to wear with both my uniform (compliance with company regulations be damned! I detest my company issued Inspector Gadget trenchcoat from hell) and with many different outfits on layovers.. It's a black wool trench from the Gap, but unlike the CFH (coat from hell), it fits a normal human body and can be made to look cute. Thank God.

My mood has taken a definite turn for the better, perhaps due to the return of sunlight to Charleston.. I wonder quite seriously at times if I have seasonal affective disorder or something. I'd considered moving to Seattle (my base)at one time, as it's a lovely city that I quite enjoy, but ultimately decided that the Pacific Northwest is far too dreary in the wintertime for me.

On an entirely different note, wtf is up with Cingular these days? I keep having these little half-hour long blackout periods during which I can't make any outgoing calls. I heard someone else bitching about it too. Well, it's about that time to call my company to harass them into putting me on a trip before I spend my way into eating Ramen noodles for a month out of sheer boredom. There's also some drama with our pilots forming a picket over at headquarters yesterday, so hopefully I can get the gossip out of one of these schedulers.

“You should never be embarrassed by your trouble with livin
Because it’s the ones with the sorest throats who’ve done the most singin”

Yeah, I guess I’m ashamed. Or scared. I tend to hide my lows from most people, just give them the highs. The highlights, maybe. MelissaLite. I’m so about to break the rules and have a cigarette in my room, because I’ve been lolling around in my pajamas, trying half-heartedly to sleep, but they’re having a party outside and I can’t quite unwind in here. I can’t go out there, either, not looking sort of weepy and with greasy bangs.

I wonder if this is the right way to handle when I get in one of these moods – listening to mellow/mournful music and letting a tear slide down every once in awhile. Reaching out for a muse while I’m at it. Lately, for the past year or so, my method was to just sleep it off, ignore the sense of numbness until it passed. I guess at first that seemed better because it was less emotional, but I’ve changed my mind for the same reason. Not crying for months at a time seemed really unnatural. I was afraid I was going to explode at some random, wildly inappropriate time. Not to mention, I’ve never been less creative as during this past year.

So. Here we are again. Tangled up in blue. Is it going to be like this forever? The rest of my life seems like a really long time to be going through these periods. And it’s irritating, really, even when I do open up to people about struggling with depression, they think they’re depressed, too. And who am I to say? But I don’t think they are. I think they’re sad. I don’t think they know what depression is, the overriding apathy. Most of ‘em, anyway.

But for godsakes, no one would want to be my friend if I were this mopey all the time. So I just stay home, socialize as little as possible, when I feel this way. I kinda wouldn’t mind going out for a drive, just smoke a few cigarettes, listen to a bit more music, drift for a while. Get out of the house. Maybe by the time I come back, these drunk college kids’ll be gone.

I wasn’t going to put this on my blog, because like I said, it’s my first impulse to keep my more morose thoughts to myself. But what the hell, really.

Thank you, Fake Boyfriend

Today's the day I wring out my liver like a sponge. No booze, significantly fewer cigarettes, and Lost on TV tonight. Plus a One-a-Day Weight Smart and some sugar-free Halls Defense Vitamin C Supplement Drops. This is my personal recipe for healthy livin'.

Technically, I should probably head over to Mt. Pleasant at some point to take care of some lingering gift-buying obligations, especially since I'm back on call today for work and could be jetting off with a mere few hours' notice, but it's raining out there. Today, I've decided I just don't do inclement weather. I haven't scotch-guarded my suede boots yet, so screw it.

Mojo feels the same way. If I open the door, he just looks out at the rain and then gives me a pained look. Since I control his universe, it's clearly my fault. But he's content to harass me in his stir-crazy feline way, alternately lolling around tragically and making random mad dashes through the house.

Well, at least I'm doing some laundry. And I guess I could wrap some presents. Okay, I'm not as listless as I sound, it's just that the past few nights have been veritable marathons of drinking, playing pool, and other associated activities liberally intermixed..

...such as, for instance, obtaining fake boyfriends. I didn't realize until last night that fake boyfriends get jealous! Yes. It's true. Allow me to explain. Last night, a beady-eyed man who I thought seemed nice enough to engage in conversation at first became increasingly repulsive to me, but clearly didn't realize it, despite my strong yet polite signals to that effect.. In short, it was necessary to obtain the services of a fake boyfriend, who was actually working at the bar.. I got nervous that he would get too busy to thwart Beady-Eyes, so I pressed another young man into service as fake boyfriend #2. Once FB#1 got wind of this, he got a little jealous and feigned a bit of a hissy fit. All in good fun, but during this little drama, Beady-Eyes managed to get my attention and for some damn reason, talked me into chatting with his buddy on his cell phone. Apparently his friend didn't believe he was talking to a real, live girl!

Anyway, at a later point in the night, an older guy even offered to be FB#3 if I needed him. He was really nice, a mortgage broker. I told him he reminded me of my dad (don't know if that's what he wanted to hear, really, but I was drunk). But FB#1 had committed himself to the goal of getting rid of Beady-Eyes with a renewed zest, so at this point it wasn't really necessary..

Okay, time now to stop rambling and at least clean my room or something.

Tabasco is my friend

If I concentrate hard enough, I can vaguely remember the days when my nose was not stuffed up and I could taste things.. as I recall, we had this word for it, "flavor."

Winter blows. But my nose will not.